Obedientiam
by Obsidian Skin
Summary: "Dude, could you follow instructions for once in your life?" Stiles is cursed with having to obey every command given to him. What happens when a man with a personal vendetta gets his hands on him?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : First story! I've been wanting write a story with this story line for a while now. Who better to use it on than my poor baby Stiles? Hope you guys enjoy! I would love to hear any CC you have for me! This might be a bit rough seeing as I've only looked over it twice. Let's give this a shot fam!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing and make no profit off of this. This is purely for my enjoyment and hopefully the enjoyment of others too!

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John Stilinski rubbed at his forehead and released a heavy sigh. "Explain it to me again. _Slower_ this time. A witch did what exactly?"

Stiles blew out a frustrated breath. He placed his hands on the table that he, his dad, and Scott were seated at. "A witch may or may not have placed some kind of curse on one of us. We don't know for sure but whatever mumbo-jumbo she was spewing sounded pretty authentic. She finished it with some hand gesture; she ground her fist into her right palm and then shoved the palm at us."

"We've already done some research on it and haven't come up with anything yet. Since we can't remember the exact words the witch said, it's making it hard to find info. Lydia and Allison are both looking too," Scott interjected. "It could be nothing, but just in case, we wanted you to know in case it actually is something."

John nodded his head slowly. "Thank you for that. I appreciate it. But," he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, "what exactly were you doing with a witch?" The two friends exchanged a glance. "Long story," they both said. John shifted his jaw. "Figures," he mumbled. "Well keep me updated," he said at normal volume. He pushed his chair back and stood up, groaning slightly as his back gave a loud pop. " I'm going to bed. I've got an early shift in the morning. Scott, you staying the night?" John figured since tomorrow was Saturday that his son's friend would probably want to stay over. Scott looked up at the elder Stilinski. "If you don't mind," he replied with a soft smile, knowing John wouldn't mind at all. And John didn't. He left after bidding both teens goodnight. Scott checked his phone for any missed messages from Lydia or Allison. Seeing none, he slid his phone back into his pocket. He slouched back in his chair. "So...," he started. " Do we want to research this some more? Or do you want to get your butt kicked on Halo?" He looked up with a smirk at Stiles who was out of his chair in record time. "You're on, McCall!" He shouted before dashing towards the stairs and bounding up them, Scott right on his heels.

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"Stiles, man, are you planning on getting up today?"

Stiles grunted noncommittally and rolled over to face the wall. Scott sighed. "Dude, it's already noon and I'm getting tired of watching you sleep."

"d'n wa 'e slee' 'en.."

Scott rolled his eyes. He had known Stiles long enough and had slept over enough times (or Stiles had slept over at Scott's place) that his brain had developed a "Sleepy Stiles" translator. Stiles' previous comment translated to "Don't watch me sleep then." Scott spun lazily in Stiles' desk chair, thinking of a way to get his friend out of bed. He put his foot down to halt his slow rotation as an idea hit him. "Hey man? Just wanted to let you know that Lydia invited us over to her house to do some research on the witch thing together. But since you already have hibernation plans for today, I can text her and tell her you're not coming..." Scott mentally applauded himself as he watched Stiles frantically throw the covers off and almost fall out of bed in rush to get ready to "go see Lydia." Scott pressed his lips together to stifle the laughter that begged to be set free as he watched Stiles careen around the room in a panic. Stiles had one leg through a pair of jeans when he noticed Scott with his fist pressed to his mouth and his shoulders shaking from obviously suppressed laughter. Stiles glared. "Lydia didn't invite us over, did she?"

Scott quickly shook his head 'no', still holding back his mirth. Stiles grabbed the closest pillow off his bed and threw it at Scott. "I hate you," he said flatly. He finished donning his jeans without the previous panic that had been so cruelly and unnecessarily inflicted upon him. He threw on a gray hoodie before heading downstairs in search of breakfast and/or lunch. Upon entering the kitchen, Stiles saw the dishes left out from what must have been his father's hasty breakfast. "Did you eat yet, Scotty?" He asked the werewolf who had followed him into the kitchen. He peered into the fridge to see what there was that he could make. The only thing that looked like it wouldn't give them food poisoning was eggs. "I hope you're a fan of eggs cause that's all we've got. Unless you want to take a chance with the Chinese food from who knows when." Stiles pulled said Chinese food out and gave the carton an experimental sniff. He jerked his nose out of range the second the smell hit him. "Oh absolutely not!" He gagged and chucked the container into the trash. He spun around to face Scott. "How about we go out and grab something?"

Scott had his phone in his hand and a confused look on his face. Stiles quirked an eyebrow at his friend. "What's up?" He asked. "Is it from the girls?" Scott nodded. "Uh yeah. It's from Allison. She says she thinks that they found something and she wants us to come over."

Stiles relaxed his eyebrow and pursed his lips instead. "Oh. So what's the frowny face for? Shouldn't you be excited for a reason to see Allison?"

Scott bit his lip. "It's not that. I mean, yeah, I'm excited to see her, but her text says that if it's what they think it is, we're not going to like it."

Stiles snorted and turned around to close the fridge he had left open. "It can't be that bad." He grimaced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Both he and Scott rushed to the middle of the kitchen and knocked repeatedly on the wooden table. They had both learned to stop using that phrase once they became more frequently involved with the supernatural. The world seemed to accept that saying as a challenge to throw all the crap it had at them and the pack. Deeming the danger passed..., "Allison's house?" Scott asked. Stiles nodded. "Allison's house." They went about getting shoes and keys before they headed out to Stiles' jeep. They pulled out of the Stilinski's driveway and headed towards the Argent's house."

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Chris Argent was in the middle of washing the lunch dishes when he heard the doorbell go off. He grabbed a towel to dry his soapy hands on as he went to see who was at the door. Peering through the small lens, he made out Scott and the Stilinski kid. Chris frowned. Allison hadn't told him that she was expecting company. He unlatched the door's chain and twisted the main bolt out of place before reaching down and sliding the floor bolt into the unlocked position. He opened the door to his daughter's friends. "Boys," he greeted, throwing the towel over his shoulder. Scott raised a hand and gave a small wave. "Hi, Mr. Argent," he said with a smile. Stiles gave his greeting the way he did everything: overenthusiastic. "Hey, Mr. Argent! Loving the whole domestic look you've got going for you!"

Chris raised an eyebrow at him as he gave himself a once over. He had his set of workout sweatpants on and a white v-neck t-shirt. And of course, the dish towel on is right shoulder. Nothing special. Though seeing that the two boys normally saw him in his jeans, work boots, and leather jacket, this was quite a step down. He chuckled to himself lightly. "The girls are in Allison's room," he directed, stepping aside to let the two teens pass. Scott smiled. "Thanks Mr. Argent."

The boys walked down the short hallway before reaching Allison's room. The door way shut, but Scott could hear Allison and Lydia talking in hushed tones inside. Stiles reached for the door handle before a hand on his wrist stopped him. "What?" He asked, wondering why Scott had stopped him. Scott raised his eyebrows at him incredulously. "You're supposed to knock before you go into girls rooms. You can't just go barging in like that."

Stiles straightened up and squinted at him, as if that would help him understand Scott's reasoning. "Why?"

"Because," Scott shifted his weight, "they could be naked or something."

Stiles raised an eyebrow at his friend. "And we shouldn't go in there if they were because..." Scott blushed, knowing that Stiles was being purposefully difficult. "Stiles you-" He was saved at that exact moment by Allison swinging the door open and dragging them both in by their shirts. She quickly shut the door behind them and leaned against it. "We need to do a test," she said before joining Lydia on the edge of the bed. "And hello to you too. What did you guys find and why does it require a test?" Stiles responded to Allison's unorthodox greeting. Lydia looked up from the nail she currently filing. "We found a potential candidate for the witch's spell. We need to run a test to see if we're correct. If the test doesn't work, then it's back to the drawing board."

Scott shifted uneasily. "Are you at least going to tell what you think it is?"

Allison bit her lip. "I think it might be better just to show you." She stood up positioned herself in front of the werewolf. She took in a deep steadying breath. Scott could smell the nerves coming off of her in waves. What was she so nervous about? Was this dangerous? "Allison is this-"

"Scott, sing me the alphabet."

Scott blinked. Wait, _huh_? Was she really getting so worked up over asking him to sing his ABC's? "You want me to sing the alphabet?" He asked confusedly.

"Scott, sing me the alphabet," Allison repeated her command. Scott frowned. "Why? I mean, if it's part of your test, sure, I'll sing it. But-"

Allison blew out a breath of a relief. "It's not you," she said. This just served to make Scott more confused. "What's not me? Allison, will you please explain? Is this dangerous?" Allison ignored his plea as she moved to stand in front of Stiles. Stiles gave her a cheeky grin. "If you're going to ask me to sing the alphabet too, I'm going to have to take a raincheck on-"

"Stiles, sing me the alphabet."

" _A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H,_ -"

Scott's jaw dropped open as Stile's unquestioningly started to sing the alphabet. Stiles didn't sing in front of anyone. In the thirteen years that Scott had known him, never had Stiles so much as sang "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star". And yet, here he was, openly singing in front of three people. The strangest part was that, going by the look on his face, Stiles had no idea why he was doing it either. Maybe he didn't have control over it... _Did_ he have control over it? Lydia slowly lowered her nail file and stared at Stiles with wide eyes. Allison had stepped away from Stiles and was watching him with a worried look shadowing her face. "Oh, great...," she breathed.

"- _next time won't you sing with me,_ " Stiles finished the song with his horrified still in place. The room was covered in a blanket of shocked silence. Then-

"What the _hell_ was that?!" Stiles pratically screeched.

" _Oportet te discere oboedientiam_ ," Lydia said quietly. All eyes swiveled to the strawerry blonde on the bed. "What?" Stiles asked harshly, taking a step towards the banshee. Lydia locked eyes with the teen. " _Oportet te discere oboedientiam_. It's Latin. It translates to 'You must learn obedience.' The witch literally cursed you with an obedience spell."

Stiles rubbed viciously at his forehead. "An obedience spell. Does this make me a freaking dog or something?" Lydia shrugged. "Or something. It means that until we can find a way to reverse the curse, you'll have to obey every command given to you. If Allison had asked you to sing the alphabet, you could have said no. But since she _told_ you to sing it, you didn't have a choice. Until we figure this out, you're going to be stuck obeying every command."

Stiles grabbed at his hair in frustration. " _Every_ command?" He repeated in a strained voice. Lydia picked up her nail file and dropped it on the floor. She looked innocently up the boy. "Pick it up," she said to Stiles. Immediately, he bent down and retrieved the emery board before he could realize what he was doing. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. Scott could feel the tension emitting from Stiles. He could also sense the rising panic in his friend but he didn't need his wolf senses to see that. If he was looking closely, which he was, he could see Stiles' chest rising and falling a little faster than it should be. He walked over to his friend in hopes to intervene in the approaching panic attack or at least cut it short. Every now and then, physical contact was all it took to bring Stiles off the edge. Scott hoped this was one those times.

He placed a comforting hand on a Stiles' shoulder. Putting as much calmness and reassurance as he could into his voice, he said, "It's going to be okay, man. We're going to figure this out." He turned to the girls for support. "Right guys?" He said pointedly. Allison quickly assessed the situation before realizing what Scott was getting at. She nodded her head confidently. "Of course! No problem! Right Lydia?"

Lydia looked up from her pampering session. "Sure," she added. "You're going to be fine," she told Stiles, looking straight into his eyes. Their reassurance didn't seem to be doing much in the way of calming Stiles down. "What about school? I can't make my own choices anymore! If Coach says to run until our legs fall off, even if it's a joke, I'll do it! And I won't have control over it!" His horrified look returned suddenly with intensity as another thought occurred to him. "What if someone says 'go screw yourself'? I get told that on a daily basis. _Holy crap_! Guys, we've got to fix this! I can't– I have to– we– I– _oh_ _no no no no no no no_..." His breathing escalated to full on hyperventilating. His vision started to fuzzy from lack of oxygen supply. He felt himself falling to his knees as hands grabbed at him and tried to keep him from falling over. He was never going to be able to go in public again until they fixed this. If people found out, would they try to take advantage of him? What was he going to tell his dad?

Stiles heard a voice break through his cloud of panic telling to _breathe for goodness sake_. He didn't think his lungs were capable of breathing at that current moment. But his curse-controlled mind thought otherwise and suddenly there was air flooding his lungs. Okay, maybe this curse had an upside.

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Stiles pulled into his driveway and parked Roscoe next to his dad's car. He pulled the keys out of the ignition but didn't exit the car. _'You can do this,'_ he thought to himself. _'It's not like he's going to use this against you.'_ Knowing what the witch did to him made him more paranoid than he cared to admit. But this was his dad he was talking about. He would never take advantage of his son's predicament. John would probably do everything to aid in the effort of figuring out the problem and freeing his son. With that thought lodged firmly in the front of mind, worked up the courage to finally get out the Jeep and make his way inside. He found his dad sitting at the desk in his office looking over what seemed to be old case files. John heard his son's footsteps approach and stop in front of his office. "Hey Bud," he said without looking up. After a few moments of silence – silence from Stiles never meant anything good – John looked up took in his son's stance. Stiles had one arm crossed across his chest and he was biting firmly on the thumbnail of his free hand. His brow was furrowed and his head was tilted downwards ever so slightly. John put down the file he was holding. This was Stiles' "Worried with no clue no how to fix this" look. The sheriff steeled himself for whatever was going to come out of his son's mouth. "What's wrong?" Stiles didn't reply. So, guessing game it was then. "Is this about that witch you were telling me about?" He asked. This elicited a nod from Stiles. John had taken a step in the right direction then. Moving on. "Did you guys figure out what all it was she said?" Again, Stiles nodded an affirmation. John raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "Well?"

Stiles released the nail from his mouth and breathed out a pent up sigh. "It's an obedience spell, Dad. It's recipient must obey every command given to them whether they want to or not."

John shifted his jaw to the side. "An obedience spell." He mulled it over for a moment before he spoke again. "Can I take a guess and say that you're the recipient?"

Stiles turned pleading eyes on his dad. John gave a breathy chuckle. "Son, you have some of the worst luck I have ever seen."

Stiles groaned. "That's not helping, Dad. I already know how crappy my luck is. This is where you're supposed to say that we're going to figure this out. That this is not as bad as it seems. That it will all turn out okay." He took a few steps into the office before halting. "Hang on. Scratch that. Don't say any of those things. I've heard them already and I know that they're lies."

John shrugged and gave an apologetic smile. "Have you found a way to reverse it yet?" After the words were out of his mouth, he realized how stupid he sounded. If Stiles and his friends had already figured it out, his son wouldn't be here looking like someone just told him that Roscoe was being melted for scrap metal. "Let me rephrase that: how close are you to finding a solution?" John amended. Stiles ran a hand through his already mussed hair before bracing his hands against John's desk. "Not very!" He said in a strained tone. "Dad, I can't go to school like this. People won't know what they're doing when they tell me to do something. And I can't tell them because what if someone takes advantage of it! How am I supposed to do this?"

John took pity on his son as he saw how frantic this whole situation was making him. He reached across the desk and placed a hand on his son's shoulder, unknowingly repeating Scott's actions from earlier. "I know you don't want to hear it, but it's going to be okay, Stiles. We'll figure it out."

Stiles looked up at his dad's sincere face. He sighed, forcing himself to relax, and nodded. Everyone was right: it was going to be okay. He gave John a small smile. John smiled back before pulling back and standing up from his chair.

"In the meantime, why don't we go out for some dinner. I'm starving and all we have is eggs."

Stiles snorted, recalling running into that same problem that morning. John patted his pockets in search of his wallet before he remembered that he had set it on his bathroom sink when he had come home earlier. As he switched focus to finding his keys instead, he said, "Stiles, go grab my wallet from my bathroom, please." Then he realized. Even though he had said it politely, he had still given his son a command. He looked up in time to see Stiles' body do an immediate 180˚ and start the trek to the upstairs bathroom. John cringed as he came to the understanding that he was going to have to be a lot more careful on how he phrased his requests from now on. He would have to make sure that Stiles at least had a choice in the matter. "Sorry, Stiles!" He called to his son's retreating back. Stiles threw a thumbs up over his shoulder. "S'okay! I probably would've gone to get it anyways."

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Drop me a review and tell me what you thought! All the love and salad!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hey friends! I'm blown away by the positive response the first chapter received! Thank you guys so much! It was pointed out to me that I forgot to give credit to where my idea came from. :P Oops! I got the idea from the film _Ella Enchanted._ That's where the idea for the curse came from. The rest of the plot line is mine!

Also thank you to the lovely soul who left me a kind review! You made me smile :)

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

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"Deep breath, Stiles," Stiles muttered to himself. He stood in front of the entrance to Beacon Hills High School. He shouldn't be getting so worked up over this. Yet here he was, his heart pounding away in his ears and his hands shaking ever so slightly. "It's just school. You can survive 8 hours in there. For the next 5 days. Or the next week. Or the next week after that. And maybe even–" Stiles jumped as a hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder. He whipped his head around to find the owner of the hand. Seeing no one over his right shoulder, he looked to his left and came nose to nose with the worried face of Isaac. Stiles jumped back a good foot. "Do all you werewolves have a running game of "Who can sneak up on Stiles silently the most" or something? Because it really isn't helping right now," he said pointing an accusing finger at the towering teen. "I'm going to get you a bell or something, I swear to –"

"Are you alright?" Isaac interrupted. His worried gaze intensified as Stiles didn't respond. "I could smell you from across the parking lot. You smell nervous. But more than that: you're anxious. And frankly, it smells terrible. What's wrong with you?"

Stiles blinked at him. "Wow, Isaac. Your concern is warming my heart," he deadpanned. "Seriously." He hitched his backpack up and squared his shoulders. He set his jaw and started up the steps to the doors, Isaac trailing a step behind him. "Stiles, what's going on?"

Stiles blew out a sigh. "It doesn't concern you, Isaac. Now would you please back off ?"

Isaac ignored Stiles' request. "It might concern me. I won't know until you tell me." He felt a burst of anger flare up in him as Stiles ignored him and walked through the high school doors, not bothering to hold the open Isaac. He grabbed Stiles' shoulder and wrenched him around, reigning in his strength since Stiles was only human. "Tell me what's wrong. I might be able to help." Isaac fully expected Stiles to throw a witty retort in his face and swagger off to class. He was, therefore, surprised when Stiles immediately confessed what had his nerves firing on all pistons. At the end of his explanation, Isaac face was a cross between confused and amused. "So if I told you to blow me a kiss, you'd do it?" He watched as a glint of trepidation appeared in Stiles' eyes.

" _Please_ don't," Stiles said quietly. Isaac shook his head quickly. He couldn't understand what it would feel like to not have control of your body when someone told you do something.

"I won't. That must suck though. Oh...," he was struck with the realization that he had unconsciously already used the curse against the human. "Uh, sorry about that. Making you tell me about it."

Stiles could tell by the way Isaac wasn't making eye contact with him that he truly was sorry. Stiles waved off the wolf's apology. "It's fine. You didn't know. Just, now that you _do_ know, don't do it again. Please."

Isaac nodded his acquiescence before heading off to his first class. Stiles grabbed the books out of his locker that he would need for his first three classes before going to class himself.

He slid into the seat behind Scott right as the bell rang. Scott half turned in his chair to see his friend. He was looking at Stiles' face but Stiles could tell he was using his wolfie senses and was probably listening to his heart rate and smelling the chemosignals. Stiles sat back in his chair as if adding what little distance he could would help him escape Scott's range. He watched as his friend's brow furrowed as he listened to Stiles' escalated breathing and heart rate. "Dude, are you–"

Stiles discharged a long suffering sigh. " _Yes_ , I'm fine!" He replied in a rough whisper. He jerked forward in his seat and leaned in closer to his best friend. "Did you find anything last night?" He and Scott had both gone to the library– ugh– to find books on ancient curses to see if they could find a way to break the curse. They had left with at least six thick tomes each and had both stayed up well past midnight looking through them in their respective homes.

Scott shook his head. "No, most of the stuff was in Latin or some other archaic language. Any luck on your side?"

Stiles huffed. "Nothing. Scott, it hasn't even been a full three days yet and I am going out of my freaking mind!" He took his voice down another notch, knowing that Scott would be able to hear him just fine. "My dad slipped up twelve times yesterday. _Twelve_. I counted. Isaac hit me with one this morning. I just–," he twirled his pencil around his fingers restlessly, " I am really starting to feel like a dog. And I don't like it. I don't like it at all, Scott. We need to fix this and we need to fix it _soon_."

Scott gave Stiles a firm nod. They would fix this. But first they had to get through school.

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It was during lunch when it finally happened. And when it happened, it was a chain reaction.

Stiles had stayed behind in English because the teacher had wanted a word with him. Once he was free to go, he had speed walked through the halls to get to the cafeteria. He had something he needed to talk to Lydia about and had only had a thirty minute window. Twenty of which he had just spent with Mr. Hicks. As soon as he entered the cafeteria, he started searching for the petite redhead. Not finding her, he looked for Scott instead, figuring that Lydia might be somewhere nearby. He spotted Scott standing near the end of the food line by fruits. Stiles figured he should probably eat something while he had the chance. "Scott!" He said in a raised voice. Immediately, Scott ears perked up and he turned toward the sound of Stiles' voice. Stiles gestured to the pile of apples next to Scott's elbow and mimed throwing one. This was mistake number one. Scott quickly grabbed an apple and lobbed it through the air towards Stiles. Stiles shuffled back a few steps to compensate for the apple's trajectory. Mistake number two. Stiles, as ever, was not quite as observant of his surroundings as he should've been. Walking directly into his path behind him was none other than Luke Cedars.

Luke had transferred to Beacon High for his senior year last fall when he and his family had moved in from out of town. While he wasn't exactly the nicest of guys, he could hold a decent conversation with you on his good days. But on his bad days, the second anyone did anything to irk him, it was all swing first ask questions later. Everyone who knew Luke knew not to piss him off on his bad days. The dude was built like rock. He was practically solid muscle. Nobody even dared to joke about having a brawl with him.

Stiles took one step too many backwards and crashed right into Luke. The tray in Luke's hands tipped and scattered the food that was balanced on it all over the floor. Stiles tripped over Luke's feet and ended up on the floor with the food. To top it all off, the apple Scott had thrown chose that moment to fall from the sky and thwack Luke on the side of the head. Stiles froze, open mouthed, on the ground. He looked up at the hulking senior.

"Hey... um I'm... uh I'm really sorry. How bout I go get you another tray and some more food, huh?" Stiles gulped as Luke lips pulled back in a snarl. "Or I could just leave? That would probably work too..."

Luke glared down at the smaller boy. "Get up!" He barked. As much as he fought it, Stiles was on his feet in an instant. Across the cafeteria, Scott had begun pushing his way through the crowds of students the second he had seen Luke and Stiles on a collision course. He could feel the angry waves pouring off of Luke. This wasn't going to be good.

Stiles held out placating hands towards Luke, palms out. "I'm sorry! It was completely an accident! It's not going to happen again, I swear. Calm down, big guy!" He flinched as Luke took a menacing step towards him. He swallowed heavily as he watched Luke's hand, which had curled into a fist at some point, pull back for a blow. Even though he saw it coming, there was nothing he could do to prevent it. The fist hit him right across his left cheekbone. Stiles was pretty sure he felt something crack. He stumbled into the wall and quickly rebounded, trying to regain his balance. As soon as he was steady, another fist came at him. And then another. And another, and another, and another. Stiles wasn't exactly sure how it happened, but he ended up curled in on himself on the floor. _'Just got to wait it out,'_ he told himself as he felt Luke's fists and now feet going at him relentlessly. He felt a booted foot connect solidly with his head. The world went white around him momentarily as a high pitched ringing filled his ears. He shook his head to clear it. That's when he heard a shout from the crowd that had gathered around them. "Get up, Stiles!" No, no, no, no, _no_! Why would they say that? He already had a plan! His body acted of its own accord. He was suddenly on his feet again and Luke's fists were still wailing on him. He supposed he should fight back, but he wasn't willing to start throwing punches and then have the blame for the whole skirmish placed on him. So instead, he brought his arms up and covered his head. That's when he heard the next shout.

"Hit him back, Stilinski!"

 _Crap_.

His fists lashed out, one actually managing to hit Luke square in the nose. Having landed a blow, he thought he would be able to regain control of his body. He thought wrong. Fists, elbows, knees, feet – whatever his body could use as a weapon, it did. He didn't think he was doing much damage since the blows from Luke were still coming strong. He blinked hard against the fog that was starting to cover his vision. He was pretty sure that the kick to his head had given him a concussion. Like 95% sure. Another command pierced through the ringing in his ears:

"Stiles stop!" Oh, God bless Scott and his perfect timing! Stiles' hands dropped to his sides. Once he was still, he realized that Luke wasn't throwing punches anymore. Luke's arms were held behind his back by Isaac. God bless Isaac, too. Isaac gave him a questioning look. Stiles shook his head. He would explain later. He heard a familiar whistle go off right in his hear.

"Cedars! Stilinski! What the hell are you two doing? Principal's office! _Now!_ " Coach punctuated his demand with a shrill blast from his whistle.

Once again, Stiles' control over his actions was taken away from him as he turned and marched out of the cafeteria. He listened to the conversation going on behind him as his legs carried him away.

"McCall! What happened?"

"Coach, he needs to go the nurse's office." Stiles assumed Scott was talking about him.

"He can go after he sees the Principal. Now, what happened?"

"Coach, look at him! He can't even walk in a straight line!"

And Scott was right. Stiles look like a drunkard as he staggered down the hall. The fact that the hallway had doubled and seemed to be shaking slightly wasn't helping his case. Stupid concussions. He longed to stop walking and take a moment to regain his equilibrium. Unfortunately for him, he was freaking cursed and no freaking choice over any freaking thing.

But now was not the time to complain. Right now he needed to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. At least once he got to the principal's office he would be able to sit down. And pass out. Yeah. Passing out sounded pretty fantastic at the moment.

Right foot, left foot.

Right foot, left foot.

Right foot... _falling?_

That wasn't right.

But suddenly there was an arm around his back and a shoulder right under his arm. He couldn't see who it was, but they had impeccable timing. Probably Scott then.

"-iles... Sti-... -ear me?" Scott obviously was looking for some kind of response. But his words sounded like they were coming from the bottom of a fishbowl.

"I-I- I c-can't - I - wha?" Well that was articulate. The last thing that crossed his mind was 'Thank goodness Scott's got super strength' before he succumbed to the arms of Morpheus.

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"Stiles? Buddy? I hate to do this to you, but you need to wake up. Open your eyes."

Stiles opened his eyes to half mast and instantly regretted it. Pain ran like a wildfire through his skull. He longed to close his eyes and shut out the painful light that was streaming in. However, he had to do as he was told.

"T-This s-s-sucks," he groaned. Then he frowned. "Wh-why'm I s-st-stuttering?" He asked. His dad's face appeared in his line of vision. He looked worried. "It's a side effect of the concussion, Stiles. How're you feeling?"

Stiles groaned again. "Like c-crap on t-t-toast," he choked out. John chuckled. "Hate to say it, but you look like it too," he said fondly as he gently ran a hand through his son's dark hair. "Can you sit up? The nurse left some painkillers for you."

Stiles nodded before figuring out that that particular action was a bad idea. He gingerly pushed himself up from his reclining position on what appeared to be the school nurse's exam table. If he was still at school, then... "D-Dad, w-what are y-you d-d-doing here?" John slid a hand behind Stiles' back and helped him the rest of the way up. "I got a call from Nurse Smarkovski saying that you were in a fight and had sustained a pretty serious concussion. I'm here to drive you home. But before we get to that," he paused to hand Stiles the pain meds, " why were you in a fight and who started it?"

Stiles dry swallowed the pills with a grimace. "Doesn't m-matter," he said, that the stutter was hanging around. John raised his eyebrows at his son's reply. "Doesn't matter? Stiles, you look terrible and here you want to tell me it doesn't matter?"

Stiles grinned up at John. "Y-You should s-see the o-o-other g-guy."

John released a long suffering sigh. Stiles was definitely his son. "Stiles," he started in a hushed voice, "does this have to do with the curse?"

Stiles pressed his lips together and was silent for a moment. Then he nodded. John blew out another sigh and ran a hand through his close cropped hair "What did he say?"

Stiles started to shake his head before remembering that it was a bad idea. "It wasn't h-him. It w-was someone else. I-I-I didn't see who it was. One p-person told me to g-g-get up and another person t-told me to f-fight back. D-Dad, I wasn't g-going to throw any p-punches, I sw – I swear!"

John nodded at his son. "I believe you. Calm down," he reassured Stiles before crossing to the corner of the room and grabbing Stiles' backpack. Stiles guessed someone must've dropped it off for him. John hoisted the pack up on his shoulder before returning to his son. "Ready to go?" He extended a hand to help Stiles off the tall table. Ignoring his dad's hand, Stiles gently swung his legs over the side of the table and slowly lowered himself to the floor. He was careful not to move too fast. Once he thought he had his balance, he pushed away from the table and started towards the door. Three steps in and the room was already starting to spin. He stretched out an arm for his father who was trailing a half-step behind him. John caught his hand and pulled the arm over his shoulder.

"Easy now, Kiddo. Lean on me. I've got you."

Stiles longed to roll his eyes at the cliche phrases coming from his dad. But he took John's advice and leaned some of his weight on his dad. Once they were in the parking lot, Stiles noted that they were going the wrong way. "Uh, D-Dad?"

"Yes, Stiles."

"I p-parked down the other w-way."

John smirked slightly. "We're taking my car home."

Stiles shifted his jaw sideways. "Then w-who's bringing Roscoe home?"

"Lydia volunteered."

Stiles was silent. John knew this wasn't going to over well with him.

" _Lydia?_ "

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A black porsche went unnoticed by both Stilinskis. But it wasn't so much the car that mattered than who was occupying it. The driver of the porsche squinted through his windshield before letting out a low whistle.

"Well what are the odds...," he breathed incredulously. The man turned to the teen in the passenger seat. "What's that boy's name, Luke?" He asked.

Luke Cedars looked up in time to see the younger boy he had fought with and his father go by. He squinted as he tried to recall what the others had been calling him. Then it came back to him. "Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski," he told his father.

Cullen Cedars expression darkened. "Stilinski. John Stilinski. Pleasure to see you again, old friend."

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Hope you guys enjoyed! Leave me comment and tell me what you thought! Next chapter will hopefully be up soon. All the love and Sour Patch Kids!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hey friends! New chappie! Whoo! Sorry if this one feels a bit rushed. I'm struggling a little here...

I want to thank the beautiful person who left me a review on the last chapter! You made me feel all fuzzy and warm. THANK YOU! :D

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

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 ** _Bzz Bzz_**

Stiles snagged his phone off his desk before flopping down into the swivel chair. He checked his new message. It was from Scott:

 _Pack meeting. Can you drive?_

The last time Derek had called a pack meeting, he had sent Scott and Stiles to see about a witch in the area. And that had worked out just swimmingly. Stiles had no doubt that part of this upcoming meeting would be dedicated to discussing how fantastically he and Scott had flubbed their mission. To be fair, the blame couldn't be placed on them entirely. It wasn't their fault that the witch had super hearing and was listening in on their conversation.

 _"_ _Stiles, did you read the paper Derek gave you?"_

 _Stiles hesitated. "No, not exactly. I was a bit preoccupied. I figured you would probably read it. Cause you're responsible like that, right Scotty?"_

 _Scott rolled his eyes at him. "Give me the kanima venom would you?" He asked, extending a hand towards Stiles. He watched as Stile's face slowly went blank. Scott sighed and dropped his hand. "You don't have it, do you?"_

 _Stiles bit his lip. "N-Nooo... not exactly. But I doubt we'll need it! She's supposed to be peaceful right?" He gave a nervous giggle. His laughter died down as he took in Scott's unimpressed expression. "Right?" Stiles asked seriously._

 _Scott stared at the other teen. He loved Stiles like a brother but sometimes Stiles acted like he needed a good strong shake. And Scott was tempted. He was_ ** _so_** _tempted..._

 _Scott rubbed at his left eye. "Tell me please that you remembered to bring the lamb's blood offering," he pleaded. Stiles face pulled into a forced smile. Scott heard his heart rate skyrocket. Oh God..._

 _Stiles gave another nervous laugh. "Uh, yeah! I've got it... somewhere... maybe I left it in the car..."_

 _"_ _Stiles," Scott nearly growled. Stiles winced. "Okay! No! I don't have it. It's sitting in my room."_

 _Scott's eyes flashed bright red before returning to their normal brown though the blazing intensity was still there. "Are you kidding me! We don't have time for this, Stiles! I know you've been busy, but this – don't you think that this qualifies as a little more important than whatever else you were working on?"_

 _Stiles huffed out a sigh, "I know! I know! It's just that I –"_

 _"_ _Go back and get the blood, Stiles."_

 _Stiles blinked. "Like right now?" Scott raised an eyebrow at him. "No, Stiles. Whenever you feel up to it. Take all the time you need."_

 _Stiles didn't like having sarcasm turned on him. That was his weapon, not Scott's. "Do we really need it though? Can't we just–"_

 _This time Scott did growl. "Dude, could you follow instructions for once in your life?"_

Stiles had ended up going back for the blood, venom, and even had time to read the page Derek had given him. Stiles didn't think Derek would be too upset with the end result of the mission. They had eventually managed to talk the witch into leaving the area. Though she had left a parting gift. One that Stiles _thoroughly_ wished he could return.

Stiles quickly tapped a reply to Scott's text _._

 _Not supposed to. But since when have I followed the rules?_

Stiles hit send before the words he typed registered completely in his mind.

 _Don't answer that. I'll meet you at your house. What time?_

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Stiles and Scott entered the loft to the sound of Allison's laughter. Stepping down into the open space, Stiles watched as Isaac wrapped long arms around Allison's waist and spun her quickly around in circles. "Isaac, put me down or I swear I'm going to throw up on you!"

Isaac laughed and gently set the huntress down on her feet. He held on to her as she waited for the room to stop tilting.

"You can let go now," she told him once she deemed herself steady. Isaac seemed to have other plans though. He slowly leaned down towards her, obviously aiming for the her lips. Stiles saw where this was going immediately. Cutting a sideways glance at Scott, he saw how his friend's jaw was clenched and his eyes were looking anywhere but the couple in the middle of the room. Obviously, seeing Allison happy with someone else was still hard on the werewolf. Stiles needed to do something and he needed to do it fast.

"Allison!" He cried running over to the two and bodily separating them. While Allison's face was a picture of surprise, both from the sudden sound of Stiles' voice and from she and Isaac's moment being cut short, Isaac's face was a portrait of disappointment.

"Stiles!" Allison cried back. "Why are you yelling!" She blinked. "Why am _I_ yelling!"

Stiles threw his arms around the young Argent. "I've missed you!" He yelled. Allison raised an eyebrow but reciprocated the hug. "You just saw me yesterday!" She replied with a laugh. Stiles released her from the hug and stepped back. "You smell nice," he commented. "You took a shower, didn't you?"

Allison gave a disbelieving laugh. "And here I thought that we were the only two who didn't do the weird smelling thing. Turns out it's just me. And yes, I did take shower."

Stiles smiled and shook a finger at her. "See, good hygiene," he said. "I knew I liked you for a reason. And it's not just you. Lydia doesn't do the weird smelling thing."

He stepped away from Allison and threw himself on the couch. He let out a contented sigh. Derek's couch wasn't the most comfortable couch in existence but it felt good to by lying down on something, regardless of it was comfortable or not. He would take lying down on a marble countertop right now as a blessing. He didn't want to admit it but the ache in his head was growing too big for him to just ignore it and hope it passed. He supposed it was natural to feel like his head was going to split open the day after he got a concussion. Now that he thought about it, Stiles didn't remember taking any painkillers before he went to school this morning.

He had only just closed his eyes when Derek's voice commanded the room:

"Let's get started." Stiles groaned softly as he heaved his body off the couch and made his way over to the table everyone had gathered around. Derek started the meeting off with what they should be keeping their eyes open for these next couple of weeks. He then asked for reports on the missions he had assigned during the last pack meeting.

Stiles looked around at their motley group, tuning out the voices around him. He noticed that a certain strawberry blonde was missing. "Hey, where's Lydia?" He realized after a beat that he had interrupted whatever it was that Derek was saying to Isaac. The older wolf turned a peeved look on him for his interruption. He stared at Stiles in silence for a moment before he said, "She said she couldn't make it because of 'cramps'." Stiles almost laughed at the way Derek air quoted the word 'cramps' but didn't dare as the glare being sent his way was slowly darkening, daring him to interrupt again. Stiles nodded rapidly, hiding a wince as the pain in his head kicked up another notch. "Carry on, Sourwolf."

Derek held the glare for a moment longer before returning to the discussion he had been having. After Allison had reported her scouting as uneventful, Derek turned to the focus to the Dynamic Duo.

"Did you manage to convince the witch to leave?" He asked. Derek watched with amusement as the two friends held a nonverbal conversation. An eyebrow raised here. A grimace there. A nose scrunch and an eye roll thrown in for good measure.

In the end, it was Scott who spoke up. "Yes, the witch is gone," he said simply. Derek raised his eyebrows. Really? All the trouble for that?

"I'm sensing there's a 'but' coming?" He guessed. This trigged the second nonverbal conversation.

A head tilt from Stiles. An accusing finger from Scott. A set of rapid blinks delivered by Stiles. A frustrated huff of air left Scott.

"Yes, the witch is gone," he repeated. "But there were some complications," he added with reluctance. After a long pause in which no one said anything, Derek sighed. "Well, are you going to tell me? Contrary to popular belief, I cannot read your minds."

Stiles ran through several different variations of how he wanted to word this. Every scenario he came up with ended with Derek telling him that he got what he deserved for not following instructions. Stiles honestly didn't care what Derek thought as long as the grump had something that would help him.

Stiles decided to go for the simple route. "I'm cursed," he said plainly, looking Derek square in the eyes. Derek didn't bat an eye at the news.

"Cursed with what?" He responded without missing beat. Stiles sighed. "Uh, it's an obedience spell. Means I have to do whatever people tell me, no questions asked."

Derek leaned his arms against the table. "What information have you gathered."

Scott shook his head. "Not much. The only things that looked promising were in archaic Latin. And since Lydia's not here, we're stuck on square one."

Derek pushed off the table and folded his arms. "Have you run any tests?"

Stiles frowned. "Not tests strictly, but I've been under its influence quite a few times. I, uh, got into a fight because of it recently."

Derek nodded his head slowly. "Is it commands or questions?" He asked thoughtfully.

"Just commands, as for as I know." Stiles' hand went up to massage his temple before he stopped it and relaxed it back at his side. The pain in his head was reaching an unbearable point. _'The meeting will be over soon,'_ he silently encouraged himself. "Do you know of anything to break it?" He asked hopefully. He hope died quickly as Derek shook his head in a negative.

"However," he started before uncrossing his arms and stepping away from the table, "if we are going to find a way to break the curse, we're going to need to run some tests."

Stiles sighed. "I don't like tests."

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"Okay, before we do this, how does it work again?" Stiles knew how it worked, he was just apprehensive of actually going through with it. Even though he knew he wasn't going to have a choice. So he was doing what he did best: talking and stalling.

Stiles was sure Derek was on to him, but the older wolf explained it anyways one last time. "We're going to test your reaction to contradicting commands. I'll tell you to do one thing and Scott will tell you to do the opposite. Either you will do what one of us says, or you'll simultaneously do both. Are you ready?"

Scott stood and Derek stood on opposite sides of the room while Stiles stood in the middle. Allison and Isaac had taken seats on the couch.

"I'm read," Stiles replied. He was _so_ not ready for this.

"Stiles, leave." That was Derek. Stiles felt his legs start to carry him towards the door.

"Stiles, stay." Scott. Stiles stopped a few feet from the door. "Go sit on the couch," Scott spoke again. Ugh, never had Stiles felt more like a dog than at this current moment. He started over to where Isaac and Allison were sitting. He never got there.

"Stiles, drop and give me twenty." Stiles shot a glare over at Derek as he hit the floor and promptly started his push-ups.

"Good form, man," Isaac commented positively. Stiles gave him the same glare he had given Derek.

"Stiles, get up," Scott commanded. Stiles popped back up onto his feet. He looked at Scott, awaiting the next direction. By the look in Scott's eyes, this was where the contradiction came in. "Don't listen to anything else Derek says. Only me."

Stiles gave a nod of affirmation. Scott took in a deep breath. "Recite the periodic table of elements," he told his friend.

" Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron..."

"Stiles, stop. Do not listen to Scott. List the presidents of the USA in order from the beginning," Derek interjected.

A lance of pain shot through Stiles' skull as the commands battled for dominance in his head. He thought he would switch over to Derek's command but instead what came out was: "Sodium, Magnesium, George Washington, Aluminum, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, Silicon..."

Derek and Scott exchanged confused looks over Stiles' head. Scott took a step towards Stiles but Derek held out a hand to stop his progress. "What?" Scott asked him, wondering why the older wolf had stopped him.

"Let it play out," he said calmly. Scott frowned but followed instructions.

"James Polk, Zachary Taylor, Potassium, Millard Fillmore, Calcium, Scandium, Titanium..."

The pounding heartbeat in Stiles' ears had turned into a jackhammer. He could feel the pain rapidly spreading to every limb in his body. His stomach had become a pit of churning nausea and he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to keep down the food he had eaten. All that he could focus on right now though was the periodic table of elements and the presidents of America.

"Vanadium, Chromium, Franklin Pierce, James Buchanan, Manganese...," He could hear his voice shaking. Why wasn't anyone stopping him? Weren't werewolves able to sense pain or something? Couldn't they sense _his_ pain? Or were they just ignoring it for the sake of the test? If that was the case, he was going to kill them. He was going to kill them all... with a spoon. A spoon sounded like a pretty metal way to go.

"Guys, he's in pain. Like, a lot of pain. And – now there's blood coming out of his nose. Somebody stop him!" _Isaac_. Isaac was his new favorite. Once this test was over, Stiles was going to give the tall lanky werewolf the tightest, most bone-crushing hug the guy would ever receive.

"Stiles, stop!" That sounded like Scott.

"Zinc, Gallium, Rutherford B. Hayes, Germanium, James Garfield..."

 _It didn't work._

" _Enough_ Stiles!" That was Derek.

"Arsenic, Selenium, Bromine Krypton, Chester A. Arthur, Grover Cleveland..."

Stiles' vision had gone red at some point. It wasn't until later that he realized that his eyes were streaming blood along with his nose and ears. Neither Derek's nor Scott's orders seemed to be working.

That's when the panic set in.

Stiles figured that maybe once he finished reciting both requested lists, he would be back in control. But judging by how quickly his physical state was deteriorating at the moment, he didn't think he was going to reach the end.

That's when a voice pierced through smog of pain in his brain.

" _Stiles_ _stop_!" Allison? Stiles' voice cut off as his jaw snapped shut. The room went quiet as he stood shaking and swaying in the middle of the room. Stiles turned unsteadily to face Derek. Stiles breaths were coming short and fast. "We are _never_... doing that again."

Derek's horror filled gaze was Stiles' last sight before he felt strong arms encircling him as he dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

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"Stiles? Stiles, can you hear me?"

Stiles frowned as a voice interrupted his dreamless sleep. _'No,'_ he wanted to say. _'Go away.'_

"I know you're awake, Stiles. I don't want to have to make you do anything. I'm asking, Dude."

"L'e 'ee'..."

He heard a soft snigger. "I can't let you sleep, man. You have a concussion and you just passed out. I need to make sure you're okay."

" 'ou c'n 'ake 're l'er..."

"I want to make sure now. Will you please open your eyes?"

Only Scott could have made heads or tails of his last sleep mumble. Releasing a slow sigh, he peeled his eyes open. Sure enough, there was Scott, his worried face about a foot from Stiles' face. Looking over his friend's right shoulder, he saw the worried visages of Allison and Isaac.

Another frown crossed Stiles' face. "What's everybody so worried about?" He was startled at how slurred his voice sounded. "Did I pass the test?"

No one answered but everyone continued to look worried. The silence went on long enough (fifteen seconds) that Stiles was starting to feel uncomfortable. "Okay," he said as he started to push himself from where he was lying on the couch. Scott quickly shot out a hand and gently pushed Stiles back down on the sofa. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to get up. You don't look too good."

Stiles snorted. "I wonder why," he muttered. As he leaned back on the cushions, he noticed that Derek was missing. "Where's Sourwolf?" He croaked.

"He said he knew someone who could help us with this. He left an hour ago," Allison supplied. Stiles shot up, ignoring the spike of pain behind his eyes. "An _hour_?" He slapped at Scott's hands as he tried to push him back down again. "I need to leave. Like _right now_. I promised my dad I'd bring him dinner at the office. _Crapcrapcrapcrap_."

He launched himself past Scott, ignoring the calls for him to wait. He burst through the door that led to outside. He didn't see his jeep sitting parked nearby. He looked around for Roscoe before he remembered that he had rode behind Scott on his dirt bike. He groaned and steeled himself for the long walk home. He hadn't gotten far before he heard running footsteps behind him.

"Stiles wait!"

Stiles came to an abrupt halt. He stood rooted to the spot as the footsteps came closer. Allison came around in front of him. Stiles looked down at her heeled feet. He raised an eyebrow at her. " 'Girls who can run in heels should be feared'," he quoted. "Did you need something?"

Allison didn't shy away from his short tone. "I was coming to drive you home. Since you can't exactly walk all the way home."

Stiles exhaled sharply. "You're not going to give me choice are you?"

Allison smiled apologetically. "Sorry, no. Come on." Neither of them noticed the black Porsche that followed them at a distance. All the way home...

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After Allison had left, Stiles had gone inside and fired off a text to his dad telling him that he was on his way and that he was sorry for being late. Within five minutes, he received a reply telling that there was no rush and that he understood Stiles' being late. Stiles grabbed his wallet and dashed back down the stairs. He had his hand on the doorknob to leave before he swung around and ran back upstairs. He dashed into the hall bathroom and grabbed two ibuprofen from the cabinet. He downed them with a sip of water from the sink and dashed back downstairs and out the front door.

Stiles jogged down to the burger joint that was just outside of the neighborhood. He ordered his dad a veggie burger and (as an apology) curly fries. Once he had his order, he placed the food into his backpack and started the twenty minute walk down to the station. Halfway there, his vision was starting to cut out on him. What the hell? Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed at his head. Seriously, this concussion of his needed to get lost.

He crouched down on his heels and focused on breathing evenly. Breathe through the pain. Oh God. He sounded like a pregnant woman going into labor.

Due to the fact that eyes were screwed shut, he didn't see the black Porsche slow to a stop beside him. "Are you all right there, son?"

Stiles' head shot up as he heard a man's voice address him. He inspected the tall, well muscled man dressed in a business suit advancing on him. Stiles pushed himself back to his feet."Yeah, I'm fine. Just got a little dizzy," he said as he backed away from the man. Stranger danger and all. He stumbled over his own feet as he continued to retreat from the man who was still advancing on him. The man put out a hand to steady him. Stiles jerked away from the appendage a little too violently. He felt himself start to fall sideways and tried to right himself. Instead he only managed to overbalance and land on his butt. Stiles scrambled backwards as Business Man stretched down a hand to pull him up.

"Easy, son, easy. Let me help you up." Apparently, this qualified as a command. Stiles went still before reaching out to take the proffered hand. With a strong pull from Business Man, Stiles was back on his feet. Stiles mumbled a thank you to the man and started to retract his hand. Business Man had other ideas. His grip on Stiles' hand tightened as he pulled the teen closer to him. Stiles stumbled forward towards him. A spark of fear struck his heart.

"What are you –" He felt something sharp prick his neck. Oh crap. He was being drugged. He lashed out at Business Man, frantic to get away. In a matter of seconds, his movements became sluggish and uncontrolled. He blinked heavily as he tried to keep his eyes open.

"What did you– w- _why_..." The rest of his sentence was lost as the drug took over and his eyes slid completely shut.

"It's okay. I've got you, son. It's okay. I'm going to take you home."

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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hey friends! Welcome to chapter 4! In which I use cliche phrases and the word 'remember' about a million times. I want to say thank you to the fabulous people who took time out of their day to write me a review! **GoddessDana** , **DrewSb** , and the lovelies who don't have FF accounts, you all made me beyond happy! Thank you so much!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

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Beeeep.

 _Ugh._

Beeeep.

 _What was that?_

Beeeep.

 _Oh God, someone please turn it off._

Beeeep.

Stiles groaned as he finally forced his way into consciousness. Where was that awful beeping coming from? Caramel brown eyes peeked out under long dark lashes. They shifted slowly around the room before taking cover under pale lids. Stiles could feel the drug starting to wear off, but not enough for him to escape the blanket of sluggishness that was wrapped tight around him.

Beeeep.

Stiles reopened his eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog that was blocking his vision. When blinking didn't work, he reached a hand up to rub at his eyes. He jumped as he felt something stop his wrist that had risen only a few inches towards his face. Startled, Stiles looked down and saw that both of his hands were secured by manacles to the armrests of a wooden chair. Not handcuffs, _manacles_. Straight up, medieval times manacles. "What the hell?" He whispered in bewilderment.

Beeeep.

Stiles took advantage of his slowly clearing eyesight to take in his surroundings. The room was a good average size, maybe 150 square feet. It was well lit but had no windows. The walls were the painted the bright green you would find on the walls of a pediatric office. There were no adornments on the walls and the only furniture in the room was the chair Stiles was sitting on and an enormous wardrobe to his right.

Beeeep.

Stiles clenched his jaw as the high pitched tone sounded for the seventh time since he woke up. Where was it even coming from? Stiles craned his neck as he struggled to search the high corners of the room behind him. In the upper back left corner he spotted a small round security camera. That couldn't be where the noise was coming from but he bet it was connected to it. He scanned the walls for anything he might have missed. _There_. Directly in front of him was the steel door he observed earlier that lead to who knows where. What he had missed was what appeared to a security system panel.

Beeep.

Whoever had kidnapped him had a security system just for this room. It seemed as if they had done this before. Stiles gave an experimental tug on the metal encasing his wrists. They didn't budge. He wasn't surprised; they looked fairly new. But where on earth do you by brand new manacles? A sex shop? Stiles ruled that out. If they were from a sex shop they would probably have some kind of pink fluff on the inside of them. These definitely did not have any pink fluff.

 _Bzz Bzz._

Stiles' head snapped up. That hadn't been a beep. Just as he was wondering what the change of sounds must mean, the steel door swung inwards and into the room stepped Luke Cedars. Stiles gawked. What was Luke doing here? Luke gave him a look completely devoid of emotion as he stepped aside and allowed another figure to enter the room. The man had to duck slightly as he crossed under the doorframe. He was dressed in loose jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. Typical kidnapper look. He even had the steel-toed boots. Something about his face was vaguely familiar though. Then Stiles grasped where he had seen him before. It couldn't have been more than a few hours ago.

 _"_ _Are you all right there, son?"_

Stiles' look of thoughtfulness faded into one of anger. "You drugged me! Why the hell did you do that?"

Business Man raised an eyebrow at him. "How else was I supposed to get you here? Ask you to jump in the car with a stranger and go for a ride?" He asked with a laugh. "I don't think so."

 _'_ _If you had told me to I would've,'_ he thought to himself. Considering the look BM gave him, he must've said that out loud. Stiles sighed and closed his eyes. _'Get it together Stiles. He doesn't need any leverage.'_

Stiles opened his eyes and focused on the puzzled face of BM. "What do you want, man? Is this about Derek? Or Scott? Or any of the wolves for that matter?"

BM looked unamused as Stiles continued to list names that obviously meant nothing to the adult.

"No? Okay then...," Stiles screwed his mouth sideways as he tried to come up with other reasons why this man had kidnapped. As Luke and the unnamed man stared at Stiles in silence, a sudden urge made itself known. Scrunching and wiggling his nose seemed to do nothing to nullify the urge. Finally Stiles settled on asking BM. "Hey do you think you could maybe loosen these chains a bit? My nose really itches," he asked innocently. He received identical unimpressed glares from the rooms other two occupants. Stiles scrunched his nose desperately. The itch was actually becoming quite pesky. "Please, guys? Or you could, you know, itch it for me if you want?"

Luke was the first to move. He reached Stiles in two long strides. Stiles tilted his head back to look up at the taller boy. "It's on the left si––"

Stiles' instruction was cut short as Luke slapped a hand solidly across Stiles' face. Stiles' head snapped sideways from the blow. He winced at the sting that was now pulsating in his cheek. He felt a meaty hand grab his jaw and turn his face to the front. He was met with Luke's angry gaze two inches from his face. "Does it still itch?" He asked quietly. Stiles shook his head as much as he could within Luke's grasp. He wasn't lying. The itch had disappeared the second he was smacked. "I've got more of a tingly feeling now," he said thoughtfully. "Is that normal?"

He saw Luke's arm reeling back to deliver the second blow. He never got that far.

"Lucas!" A calm yet demanding voice called. Immediately, Luke released Stiles' jaw and retreated to his position beside the door. "There will be time for that later, Son." _Son?_ That made BM Mr. Cedars. Oh God... Cedars senior waited until his son was situated in his spot before turning back to the shocked teen in the chair.

Stiles huffed out a short breath. "Oh my God. Is this about our fight at school?" Stiles shook his head incredulously. "Man, if you wanted an apology you should've just said so."

Mr. Cedars laughed deeply. "Is that why you think you're here?"

Stiles looked up at the man and waited for him to explain. Mr. Cedars crossed his arms leaned his upper body against the livid green wall behind him. "I'm going to tell you a story, Stiles. One I doubt your father has ever told you." The man took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. "It was 1977, I think. Your father John and I went to the same high school. We met in our junior year. John's locker was right next to mine: number 1005. His was number 1006. John was in almost everyone of my classes and we always sat either right next to each other one right behind the other."

Stiles was reminded of his and Scott's friendship. That was how they sat in every class they had together. Stiles found it funny that his dad had done the same thing.

"During one of our many conversations about plans for college, we found that we both had plans to join the force. I could tell John was going to make that dream a reality just from the way he spoke and acted. He was always so concerned with people's safety. If he and I pulled a prank on someone, he had to be completely assured that the victim wasn't going to end up harmed." Stiles smiled softly. That sounded like his dad.

"We didn't have any plans to stay in contact with each other after high school But it turned out that we were both going to attend the same college: Spring Arbor University. Since we both lived two hours away from the college, we decided to live on campus. Our freshman year went as smoothly as one could hope for in college. The first day of sophomore year rolled around and John and me discovered that we shared a mathematics class. It was there that I first met her. Claudia Fletcher. I remember it like it was yesterday. She was sitting in the second seat of the first row, talking animatedly to a blonde girl sitting across from her. Claudia had dark hair, high cheekbones, and the most beautiful light brown eyes I have ever seen."

Stiles felt as though the air had been sucked out of his. Fletcher had been his mother's maiden name. Had this man known his mother?

Mr. Cedars narrowed his eyes at Stiles. "You know, you look just like her. Same hair color, same eyes." He was silent for a moment as he pondered Stiles' resemblance to his mother. "Although, you don't seem to have the same fire she had. She was on the debate team; she was going to be a lawyer. Whenever she would argue, there was this spark, a flame if you will, that burned behind her eyes. The first time I saw her get into a true heated argument, I knew that I never wanted to be on the receiving side of her verbal whip. But that was what enthralled me about her. Her passion. When she found something that caught her interest, she put her entire being into it. It was fitting that she had chosen to be a lawyer. But what I wanted more than anything was for her to show some of her passion for me. I was taken by her from day one. I made several attempts to get her to go on a date with me, all of which she rejected. John was the only one who would listen to my frustrations about not being able to snag her interest. He told me that he had heard that she did that to all the boys who asked her out. She had told them that she simply wasn't interested in a relationship. John assured me that if she wanted a man she would get one herself.

"Two weeks later, I found myself in the library doing research for a paper. I had just finished packing away my things when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Claudia. She had a book under her arm and her satchel slung over her shoulder. "Do you want to grab some coffee?" She asked me. I, of course, accepted. That was the first time we were together alone. Just the two of us. At the end of our coffee outing, I asked her if she would like to go out on a proper date. You can imagine my surprise when she said yes. One date turned into two, and two dates turned into three, and three into five, and so on. We dated all through Sophomore and Junior year. It was halfway through senior year when I decided to get serious about our relationship. I had bought a ring and had planned a grand evening for the two of us. I had made an effort to look nice. But when I got to her dorm room, she was clad in sweats and had her hair in a ponytail that looked like it had been done in the dark. When I asked her why she wasn't ready, she looked me in the eye and said, "I'm sorry but I need to break up with you." I had given her a look that must've screamed heartbroken because her eyes filled with tears as she rushed to apologize."

Cedars pushed off the wall and slowly started pacing the room. His face was animated as he recounted his story. Stiles was frozen in his seat as he listened. Cedars was right: his dad had never told him any of this.

"I was desperate to keep her. Immediately, I brought out the ring I had planned to present to her after our night on the town. I knelt down in front of her there in the dorm's hallway and proposed to her. I only made her cry harder. I struggled to think of where I had gone wrong in our relationship. What had I done that made her suddenly want to break off all ties? She rejected my proposal and answered all the questions that were running through my mind. "I can't. I'm sorry. I'm in love with John." That was when the rage had set in. How dare he? How dare John go and ruin the one good thing that had ever happened to me? I remember that at some point I had grabbed her wrist and was yelling about if she ever cared for me at all. I remember feeling hands pulling me away from Claudia and shoving me into the adjacent wall. I never found out why exactly John was there that night though I assumed it was because he was there for Claudia. I remember getting drunk that night. I remember plotting to get my revenge on the man I had thought was my friend. I remember picking the lock on the door of John's room that night. I remember standing over his bed with a jack knife. Archaic, I know. But you must remember that I was drunk out of my mind.

"I did stab your father. But since I was drunk, I missed my mark and ended up stabbing him in his left bicep. I bet he still has the scar. I can still hear his scream of agony. It was such a sweet sound." Mr. Cedars had stopped pacing and was staring at the wall with a look of reminiscence glazing his eyes.

"John's roommate had knocked me out cold before he called the police. I don't regret what I did. Not at all. What I do regret is being drunk when I attempted to take his life. Had I been sober I would have succeeded. I never got another chance at him. I was kicked out of college, imprisoned and then I left for Washington to complete my schooling there. I married and had son within two years.

Did I mention that I have a younger brother who had been friends with John in high school too? Well one day, he called me and told me that he had received an invitation to John and Claudia's wedding. By that, time my anger had subsided quite a bit, but it had never disappeared. At my brother's phone call, the anger was rekindled. I already had a wife whom I loved yet I still resented John for marrying my first love.

"Years down the road, out of curiosity, I looked Claudia up on the internet and do you know what I found? Her obituary. It said that she was succeeded by her husband John and her nine year old son Stiles. Naturally, I grieved for her. I thought of the life she could've had with me. Maybe she never would have died." Mr. Cedars' voice trailed into an almost whisper before rising to normal volume again. "Fast forward and my family and I moved here to Beacon Hills. And purely by chance, who does the sheriff of this miserable place happen to be? You guessed it! It's none other than John Stilinksi! My old friend who took away the love of my life and married her! I could have made her happy! She could've lived a long life full of children and grandchildren! But instead she chose John. And where did that land her? With a brain damaged son and frontotemporal dementia that put her six feet under, _that's where!_ " Cedars was breathing heavily as he finished his story. Stiles breathing had also quickened.

"Why are you telling me all this?" He asked quietly, not looking the man in the eye.

He heard a heavy inhale of air from the riled adult. "I'm doing this because I never dreamed that I would have a shot at John ever again. And now that I do, I'm not letting this chance pass by. Oh no. I will cause John the same pain he caused me. I'll make him feel the pain of having the one you love torn away from you. And that, Stiles, is why I kidnapped you. Had I just killed him, there would be no lesson taught. He would never learn the loss, the heartbreak, the anguish of knowing there was nothing he could do."

Stiles felt his heart rate spike. "My dad already knows all of those things. He went through it when my mother was diagnosed. He _felt_ the anguish as his wife lay dying in a hospital bed. He _felt_ the heartbreak when she was lowered into the ground in a casket. He _felt_ the loss when he accepted that she was never coming back. He felt it all. So if you _think_ that you're going to teach him something _new_ by killing me, you've got another thing coming," Stiles spat angrily. Cedars stared at the defiant face of the teen as his own face morphed into an expression of slight amusement.

"I was wrong about you," he said as he crossed to the door panel and typed in a series of numbers too quickly for Stiles to catch. The door swung open. Luke stepped through and was gone. Cedars had one foot through the door as he turned back to Stiles. "You do have your mother's fire." The door swung shut as the elder Cedars left and a loud buzz was emitted from the panel beside the door. Stiles closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the back of the chair. He hoped someone was looking for him. He needed to get out and he needed to get out now.

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Hope you guys enjoyed! Leave me comment and tell me what you thought! Next chapter will hopefully be up soon. All the love and chocolate sprinkles!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Hey friends! Sorry I took so long to update! This chapter is a bit shorter than the others due to the fact that I haven't had quite as much free time as I had when I wrote the other chapters. I apologize if this chap seems a little rushed! On the other hand: thank you to the fabulous people who took time out of their day to write me a review! **DrewSb** , **Coley** , and the lovelies who don't have FF accounts, you all made my day! Thank you so much!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

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 _Hey, this is Stiles and you missed me-_

John sighed as he stabbed at his phone with unnecessary force and cut off Stiles' voicemail. He had called his son twelve times in the last 5 minutes all with the same result. The phone would ring itself out and John would listen to Stiles' voicemail with growing anxiety and a hint of anger. It had been an hour since Stiles had called saying that he was going to be late.

In the first thirty minutes of his son not showing, John had counted it to the fact that Stiles was most likely on foot. He hadn't made it sound as if he was with Scott or anyone who could drive him anywhere. And John had made sure to take Stiles' keys with him when he went to work that morning, knowing Stiles would drive despite the concussion.

In the next thirty minutes, John had become a little worried about the whereabouts of his son. When he called the first time and Stiles' didn't pick up, he figured his son probably hadn't heard the tone. When Stiles' didn't answer the second call, John guessed that Stiles' phone was probably in his backpack. When Stiles didn't answer the third call, John thought that maybe Stiles had left his phone at home, which was unlikely, but still an option. When Stiles didn't pick up the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh times, John began to get a little worried. Had he dropped his phone on the way to the station? On the eighth, ninth, tenth, and eleventh calls he was met with a voicemail each time. If his son was just ignoring him, God help that boy.

John finally decided to call Scott to see if Stiles' friend knew where his son was. Scott picked up on the third ring.

 _"Mr. Stilinski? Is everything okay?"_

John sighed quietly. Whenever John called Scott the teen always opened with that phrase: "Is everything okay?" As if John only called when there was a problem. But then again, now that he thought about it...

"Yeah, Scott, everything's fine. Is Stiles with you, by any chance?" John asked as he sat down in his office chair.

 _"Uhh, no. He's not with me. I haven't seen him since he left the pack meeting. That was about an hour ago."_

John sighed again. He was slowly realizing that he sighed quite a bit when it came to his son. Scott heard Mr. Stilinski's almost inaudible sigh down the line. If he wasn't a werewolf he probably would have missed it. _"He hasn't made it to the station yet?"_ Scott asked concernedly.

John shook his head before remembering that Scott couldn't see him. "No, he hasn't. Did you drive him home or did he walk?"

 _"I'm pretty sure Allison drove him home. If he isn't at home right now, he might still be with her. Have you checked with her?"_

John scratched at his temple, a habit he had noticed that Stiles was starting to pick up from him. "No, I haven't. She was next on my list after Derek Hale."

 _"I'll call Allison and see if Stiles is still with her. I'll call you back in minute."_

John thanked the young wolf and hung up. He scrubbed his hands over his face. It had been a long day. He had worked a late shift last night and hadn't gotten back home until 5 AM. He had only been asleep for three hours when he had received a call from the BCPD saying that he was needed for a homicide case. He had eaten a quick breakfast that consisted of toast and decaffeinated coffee. After he had eaten, he had gone into Stiles' room to check on his still slumbering son. He hated waking Stiles up, but he needed to check his concussion. Seeing that his son's pupils were now dilating normally in the light, he let him go back to sleep with instructions to take it easy that day and reminded him that he was not allowed to drive. Stiles had mumbled a response that John was pretty sure did not qualify as actual words. Knowing that Stiles probably didn't register anything John had said to him, John had snagged a piece of notebook paper out of one of his son's many notebooks and scribbled down his reminders. He had set the paper under his son's phone where Stiles was sure to see it. He had gone straight from his house to the scene of the crime. He hated homicides. Not only because of the fact that a usually innocent life was brutally taken, but also because homicides involved an unlawful amount of paperwork. John hated paperwork with a passion big enough to rival Lydia's love for makeup. And the amount of paperwork he had had to sign off on in the first two hours of his morning was ridiculous. By the third hour of paperwork, he had developed a headache just behind his eyes. When the fifth hour of paperwork had rolled around, he had had to ask a deputy to go and find a first aid kit and see if it contained any ibuprofen.

Before he had known it, it was four o'clock in the afternoon. He had texted Stiles to 1. check up on him and 2. to ask his son to bring him dinner at work seeing as he most likely wasn't going to be able to get away from the office at the rate he was going. Moments later, his phone pinged, signaling Stiles' reply. Stiles had told him that he would bring him food and was a veggie burger okay? John had told him that anything was welcome at that point to which Stiles had replied saying that he would be by after the pack meeting he had to attend. He told John to expect him by 6:45 at the latest. Time flew by after that. John had time with his son and food to look forward to. There had been a knock on his door and he had called for the person to come in. The door swung open to reveal Deputy Carnaghi. Carnaghi was only a few years younger than John. He had asked what Carnaghi had needed but the man had replied with, "I need you to take a break, Boss. I haven't seen you leave this room since you got to the station. Have you even left to go pee?" John had smiled and told the deputy that he would take a break when his son arrived. Carnaghi had given him a disbelieving look before closing the door and heading back to his desk. John had returned to his work as he waited for his son. 8:30 came and went with no Stiles. By the time the clock hit 8:50, John had already called his son twice.

All in all, John was almost tempted to clock out and go get dinner for himself. But he stayed put in hopes his son would show up soon. The longer Stiles went unaccounted for the more worried John became. Due to Stiles' ADHD, he was known to constantly deviate from whatever his current task might be. It was entirely possible that on the way to the office Stiles had been distracted by something shiny.

John's thoughts were interrupted by a loud ring coming from his cellphone. He snatched it up from the desk and quickly checked the caller ID before answering. "Scott, what've you got?"

" _Allison said that she dropped him off at your house around 7:20. She said that she had offered to drive him to the station but Stiles wouldn't let her. He might still be at the house, Mr. Stilinski. I can go over there now and check if you want me too,"_ Scott answered. John stood up from his chair and started gathering his things. He pressed the phone to his ear using his shoulder as he slid on his jacket. "No, it's all right Scott. I'm heading back there now. Maybe I'll pass him on the way home. Did Stiles look okay when you last saw him?" John grabbed his keys out of his empty coffee cup and exited his office. He clocked out and waved to the remaining officers still on duty. He stepped out into the brisk night air and walked quickly to his squad car. He unlocked his car in record time and slid into the driver's seat. "I haven't been home to check his concussion."

For a moment there was nothing but silence from Scott. John had been inserting the key into the ignition but he froze at Scott's familiar oh-crap-how-do-I-tell-him silence. "What? What's wrong?"

 _"Umm. Uhh. Well ummm..."_  
John leaned his head back against the headrest. "What happened, Scott?"

 _"Well during the pack meeting the witch and Stiles' curse was brought up. Derek said that we needed to run some test and gather as much knowledge as we could about it. We didn't think the test was going to be harmful, I swear!"_

John closed his eyes and prepared for the worst. "What happened, Scott?" He repeated calmly. He listened without interruption as Scott conveyed the events from earlier that evening. At the end, all John had to say was, "And nobody thought to stay with him after all that?"

He could practically hear Scott cringing. _"N-No, sir."_

John sighed. "All right. Don't worry about it. Let me know if you hear from him." At Scott's agreement, John terminated the call and started the car's engine. He peeled out of the parking lot and headed for the route he knew Stiles would have been walking to get to the police department.

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Stiles bit his lip as he felt the tip of the knife enter the skin on his shoulder blade again. Mr. Cedars, who's first name Stiles had learned was Cullen, had returned with two robust looking men an hour after he had regaled Stiles with his story. It looks like the "lessons" were beginning. The two men had roughly manhandled Stiles out of the chair and had led him over to the back wall. Screwed into the ceiling over Stiles' head was a sturdy looking iron clip. One of the men re-secured Stiles' manacles before stretching up and hooking the length of chain into the clip. Stiles' arms were drawn up over his head in an extremely uncomfortable position. This new position added a new worry to his pile. His back was now turned away from the door. If anyone decided to sneak up on him, he would never see them coming. And he couldn't prepare himself for what he couldn't see.

Cullen had surprised him when the man had suddenly grabbed ahold of Stiles' shirt and had proceeded to cut it off, leaving Stiles feeling more vulnerable than before. He had felt the knife that had just been used to strip him press against his back. Apparently, carving Cullen's name into Stiles' shoulder like he was some kind of freaking tree was part of the lesson. Stiles was pretty sure that Cullen was only on the letter ' _e_ ' in his first name. That left seven characters left and Cedars seemed to be taking his sweet time and enjoying every moment of it. The knife was cutting so deep into the skin, Stiles was afraid Cullen was eventually going to cut into the muscle.

Stiles felt his muscles begin to shake from prolonged tension as Cullen incised the ' _n_ ' with a flourish. Stiles breathed heavily through his nose. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth some horrid sound would escape and he couldn't have that. He was not going to show weakness to this deranged man.

"I can feel you shaking, Stiles. You're messing up your brand," Cullen said in a low voice just behind him. Stiles screwed his eyes shut tightly. He didn't want to believe it, but that was exactly what Cullen was doing. He was branding him. Stiles knew that Cullen knew that the engraving was going to leave a scar. Cullen most likely intended it to be a sadistic message for John to find. Stiles hoped to God that his dad would never see it.

"If you don't quit shaking, I'm putting the next brand on your forehead. Now, _be still!_ "

Instantly, the shaking in Stiles' shoulders was vanquished and it was as if his body had become a statue. The knife in his shoulder froze in the middle of Cullen forming the capital ' _C_ ' in his last name. Cullen seemed surprised by the way Stiles had immediately quit shaking. He didn't know anyone could have that kind of control over their body. He frowned to himself but continued on with the engraving. Stiles didn't move again once through the whole rest of the process. Once Cullen had finished with the last letter of his last name, he stepped back to appraise his work. He couldn't exactly see the lettering due to the blood that was cascading from each cut.

"How are we feeling, Mr. Stilinski?" Cullen asked acerbically. Stiles determinedly kept his mouth shut. He knew that the second he opened his lips, at least three of the sarcastic comments that were swimming around in his bottomless mental pool of sarcastic-ness would be set free. This apparently was not the response Cullen had been looking for.

"Answer me," he said calmly.

"I think that this has been a great experience for me. I mean, I've always wanted to have someone carve their name into my shoulder. And now that it's happened, I'm going to treasure this memory forever. Thank you so much. " Stiles cursed the curse inwardly. His mouth got him into enough trouble as it is without the curse removing his filter. He flinched slightly at the unexpected bite of steel in his unmarked shoulder. The knife had only just broke the surface but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

"You know, I have never had an appreciation for sarcasm. And let me tell you, I am most certainly not developing an appreciation for it now. So let me make a few things clear," Cullen said into Stiles' ear as he twisted the knife further into the teen's shoulder. Stiles bit his lip, determined not to make a sound.

"Have you ever watched _Toy Story_? Well in _Toy Story_ , all of the toys that belong to the little boy have 'Andy' inscribed on them somewhere. That marks them as his so everyone knows that they are Andy's property. I have _branded_ you Stiles. Your shoulder bears my name. You are mine now, my property, my brand new toy. I will play with you until you break. And I don't plan on giving you away anytime soon."

Stiles closed his eyes and tried to inhale a calming breath. His dad was coming for him. He would find him soon. Oh God, he hoped he would find him soon.

Cullen yanked the knife out of Stiles' shoulder viciously and stepped away from the strung up teen. Stiles groaned softly as the knife was roughly removed.

"You will follow the rules I set for you, or your stay here will be more unpleasant than it was planned to be. There will be no sarcastic comments from you anymore. You will only speak when spoken to. You will eat all food given to you; you may not refuse food. When I ask you a question, you may only respond with a nod or a shake of the head unless otherwise instructed. Do you understand?" Cullen declared in his deep baritone. After every command Cullen listed, Stiles could've sworn that he felt his heart stop for a moment. And it wasn't out of fear. Was that the curse? Maybe after he was given a command, the way he knew that it took was his heart stopping for a millionth of a second.

All the times it must've stopped was giving Stiles the strange feeling of a head rush. He distantly felt his head nodding to Cullen's question.

He winced as a hand was clapped on his freshly marked shoulder. "There's a good boy," Cullen said with false cheer. Cedars removed his hand from Stiles' shoulder, turned away from the teen, and proceeded to enter his passcode for the door. "I'll be back tonight. Don't wait up!" He called over his shoulder as he left, his two men following behind him. Stiles listened as the door sealed and a high pitched ' _beep_ ' resounded throughout the room. Stiles released a shaky breath he hadn't known he was holding. _'You don't really belong to him,'_ his mind tried to reassure him. _'You belong to nobody but yourself. Dad's going to find you soon and Cedars will be placed in the loony bin where he belongs. But for right now, all you need to do is remain strong. Don't crack. Don't break. Don't fall apart.'_

Stiles nodded to himself resolutely. All he had to do now was wait.

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Hope you guys enjoyed! Leave me comment and tell me what you thought! Next chapter won't be up for a while. :( I'm going to be out of town all next week. Sorry buds! **I want to hear what you guys would like to see in the future of this story (if it has one).** I'm open to all ideas! All the love and cherry pie!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Hola Wolfies! I'm back from vaca! Miss me? ;) I had planned to write some of this chapter while I was away. But that didn't really happen so... Yeah. Sorry, guys! As an apology, I wrote this chapter with an unnecessary amount of Stiles whump. I hope you accept. Thank you for all the favourites and follows! And thank you to **MariAJB, DrewSb, and the reviewers without accounts!** You are all the reasons I continue to write this. Love love love!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

 **WARNING:** **This chapter does contain torture and some blood!**

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Beeeep.

Beeeep.

Beeeep.

Beeeep.

Stiles grit his teeth as the high frequency tone sounded for the umpteenth time. The sound was quickly driving him to insanity. He had been listening to it for four hours now at the minimum. It might have been longer. He had only counted the past four hours though. Cullen had left with the promise of his return but that had been a while ago. Either Cullen had been lying when he said he would come back, or he was drawing out the wait period to increase the suspense. If it was the latter case, it was definitely working. Stiles was still facing the rear most wall with his arms still chained above his head. He could barely feel his arms anymore. His hands had gone through the pins and needles phase and then had progressed into the painfully numb stage. After about an hour or so, Stiles wasn't sure he even had hands anymore. The angle that his shoulders were stretched at had caused an incessant ache to bloom in the muscles of his neck. Stiles had tried dropping his head down, alternating rolling it from side to side, hinging his head backwards, and had even tried rising onto his tiptoes to relieve the strain on his arms and neck. Nothing was working.

The pain that had previously been constantly emanating from Cullen's brand had dulled to a intermittent throb.

All these things plus the inescapable beeping were doing nothing good for Stiles. Every time the beep would sound, his muscles would involuntarily clench. The sound had wormed its way into his nerves. Because the sound went off every fifteen seconds, Stiles wasn't given much time to relax. He was on edge enough with ADHD. But with this new found hypervigilance, Stiles was miserable. After every ' _Beeeep_ ' Stiles fully expected it to be followed by the ' _Bzz Bzz'_ which had signaled Cullen's arrival the last time.

Beeeep.

Tense. Breathe out. Relax.

Beeeep.

Tense. Breathe out. Relax.

Beeeep.

Tense. Breathe out. Relax.

Beeeep.

Tense. Breathe –

 _Bzz Bzz_

 _Hold your breath._

Stiles craned his neck as far as could over his left shoulder to see who had entered the room. In the very edge of his peripheral vision, he could just see a lean figure clad in all black carrying an object Stiles couldn't see. As the figure got closer, Stiles' breaths started to come quicker. He whipped his head around to stretch it over his other shoulder. Straining his neck over his right shoulder, he caught sight of the object in the man's hand: a blowtorch. Stiles felt the blood drain from his face. The man stopped his advance and raised the device. "Mr. Cedars sends his regards. Lesson 2." He said in a polished Dutch accent. Stiles clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. Stiles desperately wanted to at least attempt to talk the hired hand out of using the blowtorch on him or at least delay the inevitable, but he remembered: _"You will only speak when spoken to."_

There was nothing he could do. Even if he wanted to – which he did – he couldn't. He had to settle for fighting to not let his inner panic be shown to this thug.

"Face the wall."

Stiles promptly obeyed the command, no matter how hard he mentally fought against it. He squared his shoulders the best he could in his position. He knew this was going to hurt like hell but he was going to take it like a man. "Remain strong. Don't crack. Don't break. Don't fall apart," he muttered to himself. He had to stay strong. If not for himself, then at least for his father. "For you, Dad," he whispered. He took a deep breath as he heard the Dutch man igniting the torch. He tried to relax his muscles but his body was fighting against him.

The flame bit at the skin of his left hip just above the waistband of his jeans. It was pulled away after a second. Stiles bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut. _Holy crap_ that had hurt. He breathed out sharply through his nose. The next jet of flame hit right next to where the first one had been. Dutch man held the flame to Stiles' skin longer than he had the first time. His nerves were screaming from the pain but still he didn't allow himself to make a noise. Stiles' back arched away as the flame was brought down a third time, this time right next to the second burn. Stiles could feel a scream climbing its way out of his mouth. Stiles didn't realize exactly how hard he had been biting his lip until he tasted blood. He quickly released the lip from the pressure of his teeth and instead clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might crack a tooth a two.

The smell of burning flesh was filling Stiles' nostrils. It was enough to make his stomach uneasy. Finally, after the flame was set to his skin for the seventh time, Stiles couldn't hold back his scream anymore. He wanted to scream for the man to stop, but no words came out. Just the sound of his agony filled voice.

After what felt like an eternity, the Dutch man switched off the blowtorch and stepped away from the agonized teen. Stiles' body shook so much that he was rattling the chains which were taking most of his weight. His knees had gone weak somewhere among the torture. The pain in his back was almost unbearable. Stiles did his best to try to breathe through the pain but the tactic wasn't doing him much good. He hated himself for giving into the pain and screaming but he was thankful that there had been no tears. That would have not only been embarrassing but it would also have been degrading.

"Until next time, jongen," Dutch man said casually as he entered the passcode into the door panel. Stiles allowed his eyes to slip shut as he heard the door close with a shrill ' _beep_ '. Once Stiles was sure the man was gone, he leaned as far away from his legs as he could and promptly threw up. He thought he was done after that but his stomach had other ideas. He threw up a second and a third time. The fourth time he retched nothing but bile came out. Stiles was left breathing heavily by the time his stomach decided it was done. He spit in an attempt to rid his mouth of the taste. Having finally caught his breath, he hinged his neck backwards and stared up at the blank white ceiling.

"Remain strong. Don't crack. Don't break. Don't fall apart," he said quietly to the room. "Remain strong. Don't crack. Don't break. Don't fall apart," he repeated. "Remain strong. Don't crack. Don't break. Don't fall apart. Remain strong. Don't crack. Don't break. Don't fall apart. Remain strong. Don't crack. Don't break. Don't fall apart. Remain strong. Don't crack... Don't break... Don't fall apart."

Stiles could feel himself drifting off into a pain-filled sleep. And oh, how he welcomed it. But then: _Beeeep._

A spear of panic struck his heart and Stiles jolted out of his haze of sleep. Once he realized what it was that had snapped him out of the daze, he closed his eyes again and groaned. It seemed that sleep wasn't going to be an option for him anytime soon.

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"Scott Anthony McCall, why are you calling me at four in the morning."

It wasn't a question: it was a demand. Lydia had been having a dreamless sleep for the first time in what seemed like weeks. She had been rudely awakened by the sound of her phone's ringtone, signaling that someone was calling her. She had cleared enough of the sleep fog out of her eyes to be able to make out the caller ID. She had sighed as she read the name in white lettering at the top of her screen.

"Lydia, is Stiles with you?" Came Scott's voice through the receiver. Lydia frowned.

"Stiles? Ah, no. Why would he be with me? And at this time? I wouldn't be surprised that if wherever he is right now that he's dead to the world," Lydia replied in sleep filled voice. She heard Scott's loud inhale through the phone. Lydia sat up and reached over to turn on the lamp on her bedside table. "Scott, is everything okay?"

"Please don't say dead right now," Scott replied in a half whisper. Now Lydia was starting to get worried. "Why? What's wrong?" She asked perplexedly.

"You're sure he's not there?" Scott almost sounded desperate. Lydia looked around her room, just in case, before nodding and answering Scott. "Yes, I'm sure. If he was here, I'm pretty sure I would know," she said as she folded back her duvet and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "If you want, I can check around downstairs. But Scott, you need to tell me what's going on." Lydia opened the door to the hallway and poked her head out. She looked up and down the corridor. No Stiles. She padded barefoot out into the hallway and headed for the stairs.

"Stiles is missing," Scott said simply. Lydia raised an eyebrow at the statement. "He's missing or you just don't know where he is? There's a difference with Stiles." Lydia flicked on the light to the living room and looked around. No Stiles. She turned off the light and walked into the kitchen. She repeated her actions from the living room as Scott said, "Both. He left the pack meeting with Allison. He said was supposed to bring his dad dinner at work. Allison says she dropped him off at home but the sheriff says Stiles never showed up at the station. You remember Stiles has that concussion right?"

Lydia nodded as she turned off the kitchen light. She walked over to the glass door that lead to the patio and peered through the glass to check for Stiles. "Yeah, I remember. You guys didn't leave him alone with that concussion, did you?" She asked as she turned away from the door and started for the garage.

"Well,... yes. But only because he wanted to be left alone! Allison was going to drive him to the station but he wouldn't let her."

Lydia stopped in her tracks. "Hang on. Did Stiles say that he wanted to be left alone?"

"Yeah, he said–"

Lydia shook her head. "No no no. I mean, did he specifically say 'I want to be left alone.'" Lydia waited for Scott's reply but there was none. "Scott, did he ever _explicitly_ say to you that he wanted to be left alone?"

"Uhummmm..."

Lydia closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. Those boys... "Where are you right now?" She had finished checking the garage; it was clear that Stiles was not in the Martin household. Lydia hurried back up the stairs to her room and started searching her closet for an outfit to wear. It may have been 4 A.M. but that was no reason to go out looking like a hobo.

"I'm at the Stilinski's," Scott answered. Lydia drew on two thin lines of her liquid eyeliner, coated her eyelashes with a quick coat of mascara, and slicked on some lipgloss. She checked her hair in the mirror. Straight and limp. Lydia sighed. There was nothing she could do about it right now. She pulled on her heels and grabbed her purse and her keys. "I'll be there in twenty."

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"Twenty-one."

 _Swish thwack_

"Twenty-two."

 _Swish thwack_

"Twenty-three."

 _Swish thwack_

"T-Twenty-four..."

 _Swish thwack_

 _"_ _..."_

 _"_ Did I tell you to stop counting, boy?"

Stiles shook his head quickly at the question.

"Do we need to start over?"  
Stiles shook his head more fervently.

 _Swish thwack_

Stiles arched away from the long leather cord as it struck him mid-back and wrapped around to his ribs. Cullen yanked his arm back and drew away the whip. "Then keep _counting_!"

Stiles dragged in a shaky breath. They had already restarted counting twice. The first time, Stiles made it to thirty-six before he had nearly passed out from the pain. The second time, he got to twelve before he actually did pass out. He had been crudely brought back to reality as someone dumped a bucket of water over his head. Not only was the water as cold as ice, but it had felt like lemon juice on his open cuts and burns.

 _Swish thwack._

"Twenty-sev –"

"No, boy. Pick up where you let off."

Stiles pulled in another unsteady breath. "Twenty-five."

 _Swish thwack._

"Twenty-six."

Stiles wasn't sure how much more he was going to be able to take. The concussion was making itself known again. An insufferable ache had bloomed just behind his eyes and seemed to have no intention of leaving anytime soon. He could feel his body beginning to crash. Stiles couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. He remembered skipping breakfast that morning though he was sure he had had some water to go with his morning Adderall. But whatever meager water he had consumed, Stiles was pretty sure it was either long gone or had been expelled when he had thrown up.

 _Swish thwack._

"Twenty-seven."

Stiles was almost thankful for the chains he was attached to. If it weren't for them, he was certain that he would have been a huddled mass on the floor by now. The manacles had long since broken the skin on Stiles' wrists. His arms were painted with streaks of deep burgundy from where the blood had run from his wrists and pooled in the junction between his shoulder and his neck.

 _Swish thwack._

"Twenty-eight."

It hadn't been more than an hour after the blowtorch incident when the dreaded ' _Bzz Bzz_ ' of the door announced Cullen Cedars' return to introduce Lesson 3. Cullen had only brandished the weapon for Stiles to see before instructing the teen to count to forty-five.

 _Swish thwack._

"Twenty-nine.

 _Swish thwack._

"Thirty."

Only fifteen more. He could do this.

 _Swish thwack._

"Thirty-one."

Stiles struggled to remind himself that he was doing this for his father. He was going through this so his dad wouldn't have to.

 _Swish thwack. Swish thwack._

"Thirty-two. Thirty-three."

Stiles forced his voice not to crack. He had to stay strong.

 _Swish thwack._

"Thirty-four."

God, all he wanted to do was escape into oblivion right now. To just hide away from the cruelty.

 _Swish thwack._

"Thirty-five."

 _Swish thwack._

"Thirty-six."

 _Swish thwack._

"Thirty-seven."

 _'_ _Don't tense,'_ he mentally reminded himself. _'Tensing only makes it worse.'_

 _Swish thwack._

"Thirty-eight."

 _Swish thwack._

"Thirty-nine."

 _Swish thwack._

"Forty."

Cullen seemed to be avoiding the shoulder where he had engraved his name. Stiles guessed the man still wanted it be visible, noticeable. But if Stiles could help it, he would make sure that that shoulder never saw the light of day again.

 _Swish thwack._

"Forty-one."

The urge to pass out was becoming almost inescapable.

 _Swish thwack._

"Forty-two."

But he was so close to being done. He forced away the impending darkness.

 _Swish thwack._

"Forty-three."

 _Swish thwack._

"Forty-four."

 _Swish thwack._

"Forty-five."

Stiles flinched as a heavy hand dropped onto his head and tousled his hair. "There's a good boy," Cullen said condescendingly. Stiles could do nothing but freeze. He hated how this man was beginning to treat him like nothing more than a dog. He was not Cullen's pet. But if Cullen wanted a dog so badly then Stiles would be more than obliged to show him his bite. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door sealing and the familiar 'beep' that followed. Stiles' exhaled shakily.

 _'_ _I hope Dad got some food,'_ was the last thought that crossed his mind before he passed out.

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"You're positive that there's where he went?" Lydia asked from the back seat of the sheriff's car. The partition had been lowered so she could see the Sheriff Stilinski and Scott in the front seat. Lydia had only just gotten out of her car at the Stilinski's when the sheriff had come through the front door and told Lydia to hop in his car. She hadn't questioned him and had done as she was told. Seeing that Scott was already in the front seat, she had climbed in the back. After the vehicle had pulled out of the driveway and was heading down the street, Lydia had asked where they were going. John told her that they were going to check the burger joint just outside of the neighborhood. He told her that that was probably where Stiles had gone to get John's food and that it was probably the last place anyone saw him. Even though the restaurant had since closed, they could still look around and see what came up.

John slowed to a stop at the stop sign and looked both directions before steering the car in a right turn. "Yeah, I'm positive. It's where he always goes to pick up dinner. It's close, within walking distance, and it had his favorite curly fries. I can't imagine he went anywhere else."

Lydia sat back against the seat and looked out the window. If this all boiled down to Stiles just getting lost and deciding to crash somewhere else for the night without telling anyone, Lydia was going to murder him. That boy could be so immature sometimes. Lydia swore that he needed a bodyguard to watch him at all times the day. Maybe John should have have microchipped. Lydia blew out a light sigh as she grabbed at a lock of her long hair and idly wound it around her finger.

She watched as John turned the car into a parking lot for a small, one-story building that had the words "American Grub" painted in bright red above the door. She frowned at the restaurant's moniker. Could they be any less original? After the car had come to a complete stop, Scott came around to her door and opened it for her. Lydia exited the car quickly and stepped out of the way so Scott could close the door. As she turned to face him, she noticed the questioning look on his face. Lydia raised an eyebrow. "What?" She asked. Scott shook his head as he looked down at her choice of shoes. "You're wearing heels at five in the morning?" He asked incredulously. Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Just because it's early doesn't mean I can't look nice. Now, focus. We're here to look for Stiles, remember?" She tossed a smile over her shoulder at her friend as she walked away to stand next to Mr. Stilinski. John stood in front of the car looking quietly at the silent building. Lydia looked up at him and noticed that he had adopted the same worried look that normally graced Stiles' face. Like father like son. Lydia reached out and tentatively placed a hand on John's shoulder. John turned his head to gaze down at the petite teen.

"Are you okay, Sheriff?" Lydia asked gently. John's furrowed brow relaxed as he gave her a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just worry about him. I swear, that kid's a magnet for trouble. He doesn't have to find it, it'll find him."

Lydia reciprocated his smile at his comments. "We'll find him. I doubt he wandered off voluntarily." Lydia winced at her choice of words. The furrow reappeared in John's brow. "Sorry!" She said quickly. "Not helping."

John shook his head but gave her a reassuring smile nonetheless. Lydia removed her hand from the sheriff's shoulder and turned her attention to Scott, who had started sniffing around the area trying to catch Stiles' scent. Lydia and John simply watched him work for a minute before John called, "Anything?"

"He was definitely here," Scott replied without stopping his circuit. "But there were so many other people here too that all the other smells are masking his scent."

John sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Do we need to–"

"Wait. I think I've got him," Scott announced excitedly. He started walking away from the restaurant and headed for the sidewalk that lead away from the parking lot. Lydia and John didn't hesitate to follow him. After ten minutes of walking in silence behind the focused werewolf, Lydia was starting to wonder just how far this trail was going to take them. It wasn't that she didn't want to find Stiles, it was just that she wished she could be doing it at a different time.

"Maybe we should go back and get the car," Lydia suggested hopefully. John nodded beside her but never broke stride.

"If the trail doesn't end in five minutes, we'll go back for the car," John assured her. Lydia held in her sigh and kept walking then stopped suddenly. Scott had come to an abrupt halt and was facing the road that ran parallel to the sidewalk. He had his eyes closed and his nose was in the air. "Did you lose the scent?" John asked the teen. Scott took one step and then another towards the empty street.

"I think he got into a car." Scott angled himself to face the two people standing behind him. John frowned and crossed his arms. "A car?" He reiterated. He quickly scanned the area for any security cameras. He cursed under his breath when he saw none. There were a few houses lined up behind them; John wondered if anyone lived in them. He would have to come back later in the day to check for any witnesses of his son's disappearance. "Anything else, Scott?" He asked, returning his focus to his son's friend. Scott squeezed his eyes shut and dragged in a lung full of air. He held the breath in for a moment with a contemplative look on his face. Scott released the breath with an audible whoosh. "It's incredibly faint but I think I smell panic." Scott's eyes flashed red as he drew in another deep breath. "Yeah, that's definitely panic."

John's heart sank. This was what he had been fearing.. "I know this is a long shot, but you said he got in a car. Do you know who's car? I know I'm asking a lot." John watched as Scott checked for cars before stepping into the street. Scott walked the width of the street and inhaled deep breaths in some parts. He stepped back onto the sidewalk and performed the same actions. After a minute or two, he turned apologetic eyes on the older man. "I'm sorry."

John shook his head. "Not your fault," he reassured the boy. John sighed and uncrossed his arms. "All right, you two. Let's head back; there's no reason for us to stay out here any longer. Let's get you guys home."

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Beeeep.

Beeeep.

Beeeep.

Beeeep.

 _Bzz Bzz._

Stiles was jolted out of unconsciousness at the noise that was beginning to become all too familiar. It was time for more pain. Stiles tried to calm his rapidly increasing breathing.

He started his mantra in an attempt to calm himself: "Remain strong. Don't crack. Don't break. Don't fall apart. Remain strong. Don't crack. Don't break. Don't fall apart. Remain strong. Don't crack. Don't break. Don't fall apart. Remain strong. Don't crack. Don't break. Don't fall apart. Remain strong. Don't break. Don't –"

His repetition was cut short as an iron bar was slammed into his side. He screamed as he instantly felt a rib give way under the rod. He closed his mouth and clenched his jaw.

"Lesson 4, boy." _Cullen._

"Remain strong. Don't crack. Don't break. Don't fall apart," Stiles hissed through his teeth. He groaned loudly as the rod was brought down a second time. "Remain strong. Don't crack. Don't break. Don't fall apart."

Stiles reminded himself again and again as the beating continued. "All for you, Dad," he said under his breath. "All for you."

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Hope you guys enjoyed! Leave me comment and tell me what you thought! **_Let me know if you guys want to see anything specific in the next coming chapters! Ships (no slash please), plot twists, fluffy moments, etc_**. All the love and lemon cake!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Hey-a friends! I know it's been a little while since I posted, but it's okay! Because I've got a new chapter for you. ;) To the lovely reviewers: **DrewSb** , **lenail125** , **O'Rei'nji Fishcake** , **and the peeps without FF account** s; you are all amazing! Thank you for taking a moment out of your day/night to write me a review! You don't even know how much joy I get when I see that I have a new review! :D

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

 **WARNING:** **This chapter does contain torture and some blood!**

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 _Bzz Bzz_

 _'_ _Not again. Please, not again.'_

"Good morning, boy! How are we doing today? Sleep well?" Cullen called in a cheerful voice as his tall frame glided into the room. Stiles knew the questions were rhetorical but the curse reacted to Cullen's previous command to respond with a shake or nod of the head. Stiles shook his head side to side once to signify that no, he hadn't slept well. In fact, he hadn't slept at all. Stiles wasn't even sure if it was still Tuesday (the day he had gone to the pack meeting). There were no windows in the room and if there was a clock, it was probably on the digital door panel. But seeing as Stiles was still facing the back wall, he couldn't even attempt to make out the time. Going by Cullen's questions of "How are we doing today?" and "Sleep well?", Stiles guessed that it was probably Wednesday morning. He hadn't even been gone a full 24 hours yet. Which meant that his dad wouldn't be able to put out an official APB for him. Why did Stiles' life have to suck so much?

Cullen's laugh behind him brought him back into the moment. "That's just too bad. I slept marvelously, in case you were wondering," Cullen chimed. "Phillip, let him down, please."

Stiles turned his head to watch as the Dutch man, who's name was apparently Phillip, approached. Stiles' eyes tracked the man's movements closely as Phillip stretched out a long arm and unclipped the chain from above Stiles's head. Stiles breathed out a shallow sigh of relief. He had begun to fear that he was going to be strung up like a slaughtered pig until he was found. After the beating he had received, the strain of having his arms pulled above his head was agony on his freshly cracked and broken ribs. He had begun to have some difficulty breathing.

But while having his arms down by his sides was still painful, it was a lot better than being strung up. Phillip released the chain and grabbed onto Stiles' bicep and spun him around to face the front of the room. He then lead Stiles back to the chair the teen had originally been seated on. "Sit," he said sharply. Stiles bent his knees and sat down quickly. He sat still in his chair as the Dutch man retreated to stand behind Cullen. The room was blanketed in silence for a moment as Cullen, stood like a statue, stared intently at the pale teen in the chair.

"You know, boy, you're burning through your lessons very quickly. You learn fast. I expected more of a fight from you. Where's that fire I saw in you? I know we didn't extinguish it with the lessons," Cullen said in his smooth baritone. "But no matter! We will continue with the lessons. I've got so many I want to teach you." He closed the distance between himself and Stiles. Cullen reached out a hand and tousled the dark hair on Stiles' head. " I've got an entire curriculum," he smiled down at the teen. Stiles closed his eyes and made a snap decision. His eyes flew open as his left hand shot up and knocked the hand out of his hair. Cullen took a half-step back in surprise. Stiles jerked his right leg up and aimed a kick for his kidnapper's stomach. His foot connected solidly with Cullen's abdomen, sending the man stumbling backwards. Stiles took the opportunity and rose quickly from the wooden seat. Phillip had never chained him to the chair. Stiles brought his fists up and mocked the fighting crouch he had seen Derek and Scott do all the time. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do, but whatever happened, he was going down swinging. He felt a spike of anger when he heard the laugh that emanated from Cullen.

"Cute," Cullen said through his chuckles. "Very cute. But you're not going to fight us. I doubt you could even take one of us."

With every word that came out of his mouth, Cullen came closer and closer to the strong-willed teen until he was within Stiles' hitting range.

"But, if you're so determined, go on. Hit me."

Problem 1: Cullen's previous observation of "You're not going to fight us" had registered in Stiles' mind as a command. The second the words were out of Cullen's mouth, Stiles' fists had started to uncurl and lower.

Problem 2: Cullen had given Stiles a command to hit him.

Problem 3: Problem 2 conflicted with Problem 1.

Stiles knew what was coming. His hands returned to their fisted positions and came up to chest level. He could feel the muscles in his arms and shoulders tensing, ready to deliver a blow. But they were incapable of doing so because of the conflicting commands. Immediately, an agonizing stabbing appeared in his head. He raised his hands and grabbed at his head, his fingers fisting in his hair. He could feel blood running from his nose down his lips and chin. He guessed that there was most likely blood leaking from his eyes as well.

"What do we do, sir?" Stiles could only just hear the voice through the ringing in his ears. Stiles thought the voice belonged to Phillip but he couldn't be sure. "Well how should I know! Do I look like a doctor to you?" That was definitely Cullen. So the first voice must've been Phillip's. "Do you think he's epileptic?" Cullen asked.

A moan escaped Stiles as the pain in his head ratcheted up another notch. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fell to his knees, his hand shooting out to catch himself as he fell forward. "Stop. _Stopstopstop_ ," he mouthed silently to the floor.

"Go get the sedative!" Stiles heard Cullen bark to the other man. Stiles ignored the door's ' _beep_ ' as he lost his balance and toppled onto his side. A sudden wave of nausea claimed his stomach and he retched dryly. There was absolutely nothing left in his stomach to bring up. Somehow, that made retching an even more miserable experience than usual. When his stomach finally decided that retching was useless, he was left feeling short of breath. Stiles tried to drag in the great amounts of air his lungs so desperately needed. Air was important for living and Stiles wanted to live. He needed air. But he couldn't seem to get enough.

As he frantically tried to fill his lungs with air, he heard the dreaded _Bzz Bzz_ of the door and instantly thought the worst. His wasn't completely thinking straight thanks to the steadily intensifying pain in his head. It couldn't be time for a lesson. Couldn't Cullen see that Stiles was in enough agony as it was? Why couldn't Stiles seem to catch a break from this guy? His mind went into frenzy mode as he saw two pairs of black boots quickly approaching from his vantage point on the floor. His body reacted of its own accord. His arms and legs lashed out as he felt grabbing at him. Stiles could distantly hear his own shouts of anger and fear as the two men tried to subdue him.

"Hold him still!"

"I'm trying! He's moving too much!"

"That's what the sedative's for. But I can't _give_ it to him if you can't _hold him still_!"

Stiles fought harder when a pair of hands managed to latch onto the chain still connecting his wrists and pulled his arms up and away from his body and pressed them into the floor. He struck out with his legs as the man then flipped him onto his back and straddled his hips, effectively trapping Stiles between the floor and the man's body. Stiles yelled again, not from the anger he felt at being subdued so quickly, but from the pain that had risen to a level he hadn't known existed. He didn't even feel the prick in his neck as the needle was inserted and the sedative was administered. Within seconds, the fight left Stiles completely. His body relaxed into the floor as the sedative took hold. His head lolled to the side and he let the darkness wash over him like the calm after a storm.

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Beeeep.

Stiles jerked awake with a gasp. Instantly he noticed that something was off. Why was the room dark? Oh God. He wasn't blind was he? Stiles reached up a hand to check his eyes for any damage. They didn't hurt but that didn't mean that they couldn't be injured. His hand never made it to face. Stiles sighed heavily. He was chained down to something, but he couldn't see what. He was seated against what felt like one of the walls of the room he was being held in. Stiles raised his right arm and tested the length of the chain attached to his wrist. His hand came up just to chest height. He tested the length of the chain on his left arm and was met with the same result. Stiles huffed and rested his head back against the wall.

Beeeep.

If he couldn't use his hands to check his eyes he would have to make do. Stiles blinked his eyes quickly. He frowned as he felt his eyelashes brush against something. Was that a blindfold? He raised and lowered his eyebrows in quick succession twice. He felt something shift slightly across the bridge of his nose. Yep, definitely a blindfold. But why? What didn't Cullen want him to see?

Stiles bent his knees and pressed his feet into the floor to slightly lift himself off the ground so he could change positions. His butt was starting to get numb. How long had he been sitting there? Suddenly, all his senses decided to rush back into existence. He arched his back off the wall as the whip marks and burns made themselves known. Stiles felt like his back was on fire. He hissed out a pained breath. That's when his ribs decided they deserved to be remembered too. Breathing was suddenly a chore. The pain it caused him was unimaginable. Stiles resorted to breathing in short and shallow breaths. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the pattern for long without becoming short of breath or passing out. And he had had enough of passing out.

Stiles was acutely aware of the hunger that was gnawing at his insides. He swore that his stomach was touching his spine. He needed food and water. But he couldn't ask for it because: _"You will only speak when spoken to."_ Stiles hated the curse with a passion. He wanted to be rid of it but he didn't exactly have the means or the resources at that current moment.

 _Bzz Bzz_

Stiles controlled breathing stopped. He raised his head in the direction the sound had come from. The mantra that held him together jumped to the front of his mind.

 _'_ _Remain strong.'_

"I see you're awake. Shall we start Lesson 5?"

 _'_ _Don't crack.'_

"To ensure your cooperation, you are going to have to wear this."

 _'_ _Don't break.'_

A calloused hand clamped onto this jaw and forced his chin upwards. Stiles flinched as he felt something cold and metallic encircle his neck and was then snapped shut in the back.

 _'_ _Don't fall apart.'_

Was that a collar? Stiles swallowed reflexively and felt his Adam's apple straining against the metal.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I have you blindfolded?"

As a matter of fact, the thought had crossed Stiles' mind.

"We're going to play a little game. It's called 'Simon Says'. I'm sure you've heard of it."

Stiles didn't like the sound of that. Who was this guy? Stiles couldn't place the man's voice; it didn't sound familiar. Maybe he was another one of Cullen's henchmen that Stiles hadn't met. How many were there?

"Now, I'm going to unchain you but you mustn't move."

Stiles groaned inwardly as his muscles locked up and left him frozen in his spot. This could've been his chance at escape. Stiles listened to the man's footsteps as he approached. He felt the pressure on his right wrist as the man inserted the key into the lock on the manacle. Once his right wrist was free, the man moved on to free his left.

"Now, I'm sure you already know the rules for our game. If 'Simon' doesn't say 'Simon Says' and all the little children do the action anyways, the children are 'out."

Stiles thought he detected a faded Irish accent in the man's voice. Where did Cullen keep getting all these foreign guys?

"But in our version, if I don't say 'Simon says' and you do the action: –"

Liquid fire burned through every vein and spared no muscle in Stiles' body. His breath was snatched away as his body seized, his muscled taught with pain. Then abruptly, the pain vanished. His body relaxed and Stiles was left panting as his ability to breathe returned.

The collar was a shock collar.

"Every time I will up the voltage by 15. That was setting 30."

Stiles tilted his head up in the direction the man's voice had come from.

"You get the idea?"

Stiles said nothing. The man laughed.

"Good. Let's begin."

 _'_ _Remain strong.'_

"Stand up." Stiles gathered his feet under him and pushed himself up using the wall for balance. He was forced back to his knees as the collar was activated. He didn't even feel his knees hit the floor with brutal force. All he could feel was the electricity coursing through his body.

"I didn't say 'Simon'." The collar was deactivated. Stiles heaved in a breath.

 _'_ _Don't crack.'_

"Let's try that again. Simon says stand up." Stiles wasted no time on getting back to his feet.

"Good boy. Simon says hold out your hand."

Stiles apprehensively stretched out his right hand with his palm up. He yelped as something heavy and extremely hot was dropped in his hand. His reflex arc kicked in and he dropped the object that was burning his hand and yanked his appendage back. Another yelp involuntarily escaped him as the collar came alive around his neck. The electricity was cut off after ten agonizing seconds. "Did I say you could drop it?" Came the irritated voice of the Irish man. Stiles answered with a perfunctory shake of his head. He wanted so desperately to reply to the man with one of his trademark sarcastic responses. But the words just wouldn't come. Stiles was afraid he was going to lose his voice due to disuse.

 _'_ _Don't break.'_

"Pick it up!" Stiles dropped into a crouch and, due to the fact that he was currently blindfolded, cautiously swept his hands along the floor for the white-hot item he had dropped. His fingers found the object about two feet in front of him. And though Stiles was sure that it was quickly going to burn a hole through his palm, he picked it up and straightened up to his full height. His nerves were sending signals of agony to his brain the longer he held the item. A scream ripped out of him the pain of the collar was suddenly added to that of the burning in his hand. His whole body shook as the voltage coursed through him. He didn't drop the object held securely in his hand though.

"I didn't say 'Simon'!" The man said with a sadistic laugh. "Are you having fun yet? I know I am."

Stiles didn't respond. He was lost in a world of pain. The electricity seemed to awaken all the curbed pain from his previous injuries. Stiles back felt like someone had doused it in gasoline and lit a fire on it. He could feel the fire burning down to his bones.

"Simon says drop it, boy."

Stiles hand relaxed and the object was released from his grasp. He heard it drop to the floor with a metallic 'clang'. What had he been holding? It hadn't felt big but it certainly wasn't small either. The question of the object's form was erased from Stiles' mind as the shock collar was switched off.

"That was 75 volts. I have to say, you're not very good at this."

 _'_ _Don't fall apart.'_

Stiles cradled his fried left hand in to his chest. He hoped it wasn't too damaged. As Stiles worked to replace the air in his lungs, he realized he could practically smell the electricity in the air. He also recognized the scent of burning flesh. He didn't like how quick he was getting at making out the vile smell. Stiles' stomach was already starting to turn.

"Let's play another round. What do you say?" The man actually sounded excited at the though of getting another chance to zap Stiles with the advanced dog collar.

Stiles kept his head lowered as the man prepared for the next command.

"Simon says sit."

Stiles bent his knees and lowered himself until his was sitting on his heels, his knees resting on the ground.

"Lay down."

Stiles tried to fight it but the curse had complete control over all of his actions. He braced his hands against the ground – using only the fingertips of his left hand – and lowered his upper body to the floor. He quickly braced himself for the inevitable. His body seized as the electricity raced through him for all of five seconds.

"That one was 90. Simons says sit up and then lay down." Stiles could practically hear the smirk in the man's voice. Stiles grit his teeth as he pushed himself up back into his sitting position before re-lowering his body to the cement floor.

"Good boy! Now, Simon says to roll over," the Irish man said with a laugh. Stiles swallowed the humiliation as the curse forced him to roll from his front to his back to his front. He waited in silence as the Irish man struggled to contain his amusement.

"Stand up, doggy," the man said in a derogatory tone. Stiles bent his legs under him and stood up. What sounded like it might have been a whine escaped Stiles' throat. The Irish man hacked out his dry laugh.

"Ah, are you even trying to avoid being shocked? You obeyed every command. I'm starting to think you might be a bit of a masochist."

Stiles panted as the collar was shut off.

"Well, I'm afraid that's all we have time for for today, lad. But, I'll tell you what: you can keep the collar. Consider it a gift, since you seem to like it so much."

Stiles felt his heart drop as he realized that this man had probably had no intention of taking the collar off in any circumstance. Now, Stiles was stuck with it. It was just another layer of icing on the cake.

"Now back up, boy. We need to get you back in your chains."

Stiles obediently backed up to the wall he thought he had been previously chained to. He flinched as his ravaged back hit the wall. He took a half-step forward before lowering himself to the ground. He must've been in the perfect spot, because moments later he felt the Irish man resealing the manacles on Stiles' wrists. Stiles hissed a breath through his teeth as his blistered hand was roughly handled.

"All right, then. Until next time, lad."

Stiles relaxed slightly as he heard the familiar 'beep' which signaled the door's closing. He was finally alone. But because of the blindfold which still barred his vision, he couldn't be sure. If there was someone else in the room, they were being super stealthy about it. So long as the stealth ninja wasn't bothering him, Stiles tried to take advantage of the silence and ––

Beeeep.

Well, he said silence. But he really tried to take advantage of the fact that nobody was currently bothering him or torturing him. And right then, that was enough.

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Hope you guys enjoyed! Leave me comment and tell me what you thought! **_Let me know if you guys want to see anything specific in the upoming chapters! Ships (no slash please), plot twists, fluffy moments, etc_**. All the love and smooth writing gel pens!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Oh hai! I didn't see you there! Welcome to chapter eight friends! Side note to the Guest who wrote the review about the pack and Cullen: it's like you're in my mind! Congrats for foreseeing this chapter! ;) I am SO sorry that I haven't updated in three weeks (has it really been three weeks. . .)! I'm back now! *sweats nervously* Love me, please.

Thank you to **O'Rei'nji Fishcake** **,** **MariAJB** , and the beautiful **souls without FF accounts** for the reviews! And thank all of you for the favs and follows! You are the reason this story is still alive. :)

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

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"All I'm getting is exhaust fumes," Derek said as he stepped onto the sidewalk to avoid an oncoming car. Scott felt another chunk of his hope disappear.

Scott had finally gone home around 6:30 a.m. He had laid down on his bed and debated whether or not to try to catch a few winks of sleep. In the end, he decided against it; his nerves had been too wound up. Instead, his mind had decided to think of every possible worst case scenario that could be happening to Stiles at that current moment. Scott had done his best to shut down the stressful thoughts. By the time seven o'clock had rolled around, Scott had given up trying to fight with his mind. He had abandoned his bed and shoved his feet into his boots. After scribbling a quick note to his mom telling her where he was going to be, he had grabbed his keys and his helmet and headed down the stairs. As he had passed through the kitchen, he secured his note to the fridge with one of the many available magnets.

 _Scott started his dirt bike and steered it in the direction of Derek's loft. After some time he arrived at the loft. He left his bike parked beside the building and headed inside at a brisk pace. Once he was inside he opened the big door that lead to the loft's main room. Scott immediately found Derek sitting on the far right side of the couch reading what appeared to be a newspaper. On the left side of the couch was Isaac. Scott momentarily paused as he took in Isaac's position. The beta was lying upside down on the couch with his lanky legs thrown over the backrest. His hair was only just brushing the floor and he appeared to be in a deep sleep. Derek chose that moment to look up from his reading and he caught the confused frown that had crept onto Scott's face._

 _"_ _Don't ask," he said as he folded the newspaper and dropped it onto the side table next to him. "What are you doing here?" Derek crossed his legs and leaned back against the couch. Scott shifted his focus to the older wolf._

 _"_ _Stiles is missing," Scott informed him. "Sheriff Stilinski called me last night to see if I knew where he was. The last person to see him was Allison. No one's seen him since."_

 _Derek raised an eyebrow at Scott. "So are you here just to tell me he's missing or did you come to check to see if he's here? Because if that's the case, you could've just called."_

 _Scott frowned. "Well, I came because of both. And you never answer your phone. I figured it would just be better to come and see you in person. Also, I need your help."_

 _Derek sighed. "You always do. What?"_

 _Scott took in a deep breath before beginning. "Well, last night – well I guess it was actually this morning – the sheriff, Lydia, and I went to the last place we thought Stiles might have been. I caught his scent and it lead us to a point about ten minutes from American Grub. Do you know where that is?"_

 _At Derek's nod, Scott continued. "I think Stiles may have gotten into a car because I couldn't follow his scent past that point. You've been doing this tracking thing a lot longer than I have. If I took you to the spot where I lost Stiles' scent, could you try to pick it up?"_

 _He waited in silence as Derek seemed to be mulling over Scott's request. Finally, Derek stood up and said, "I can't guarantee that I'm going to find anything. It's already 7:30; cars will probably have traversed that route multiple times by now. Not to mention the sidewalk traffic. But we can still give it a try."_

 _Scott nodded resolutely, glad that Derek was willing to help. Scott hadn't thought Derek would say 'no'. But it was Derek Hale: you never knew what you were going to get._

 _As Derek walked passed the sleeping werewolf, he reached down and solidly thumped him on the chest twice. Isaac shot up like he had been electrocuted. However his position didn't quite allow him to sit up properly. Instead, he ended up falling half backwards half sideways off the couch. He gave a short yelp as he landed on the floor with solid 'thud'. Scott winced at Isaac's harsh awakening. He tilted his head as he stared sympathetically down at his friend._

 _"_ _Hey, Scott," Isaac said in a groggy voice._

 _"_ _Hey, Isaac," Scott replied as he walked over to the teen and offered him a hand up. Isaac grabbed hold and Scott heaved him to his feet. "You good?" Scott asked lightly. Isaac nodded. "I'm good." Scott nodded and extracted his hand from Isaac's grasp. They both waited in silence for the other to say something. Things had become a little awkward now that Isaac was officially/unofficially dating Allison._

 _"_ _So, uh, what are you doing here?" Isaac questioned carefully. Scott looked up at the beta. "I came to get Derek's help with finding Stiles."_

 _At Isaac's puzzled squint, Scott clarified, "He's missing. Stiles, I mean."_

 _God, why did he sound so nonchalant about it? His best friend was missing for pete's sake. And here he was saying it like he was telling Isaac the weather._

 _Isaac frowned at the statement. "Are you two going out to look for him?"_

 _Scott nodded again. "Yeah. We're going to see if Derek can pick up the trail that I lost. Did you want to come too? I mean, we can use all the help we can get."_

 _Isaac's eyes took on an eager light. "Yeah, definitely! Let me just, uh, go get changed." Isaac was only clad in his boxers and a t-shirt. He gestured to the winding stairwell behind him. Scott gave him a thumbs up as Isaac started off in search of appropriate clothing._

 _Once Isaac had disappeared, Scott blew out a breath. Being around Isaac shouldn't be that uncomfortable._

 _A thought then occurred to Scott: they probably needed to go and get Allison. She would want to be included in the search for one of her friends. Scott mentally kicked himself at not alerting her before. He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and fired off a text._

We're going out to look for Stiles. Pick you up in 15?

 _Not three minutes had passed before Scott received Allison's reply._

Sounds good. See you then.

 _Scott smiled as he stuck his phone back into his jacket pocket. He still got butterflies whenever he was going to see Allison._

 _"_ _Why are you making that face?"_

 _Scott's smile dropped at Derek's sudden return and demand. "Uh, no reason," he said lightly as he watched Derek slip his arms into his black leather jacket. Derek raised an eyebrow at Scott's obvious lie. Scott cleared his throat. "I told Isaac he could come with us. He went to put some clothes on." Scott pointed to the stairwell that Isaac had disappeared up. Derek nodded._

 _"_ _I'll meet you outside."_

 _Scott nodded once as Derek left the room. A full five minutes passed and Isaac still hadn't come back down the stairs. How long did it take to throw on some jeans and a tee shirt?_

 _"_ _Hey, Isaac? We gotta go man!" Scott yelled up the stairs. Gross, he felt like his mom. Scott stepped away from the stairs as Isaac appeared the top. "Sorry! I'm coming. I couldn't find my shoes."_

 _Scott shook his head. "It's fine. You ready?"_

"Is there any other way to track him?" Allison asked from her position beside Scott. Derek tilted his head back slightly and inhaled the cool autumn air. "Not by our methods," Derek said as he exhaled. Allison bit her lip and turned her gaze to the ground.

"Mr. Stilinski is having a deputy look through the security camera footage from school. He said that there was a possibility that Stiles' kidnapper may have been there," Scott chimed.

"Is there anything we can do in the meantime?" Isaac asked from behind the group. Scott angled his body so he could see the taller werewolf. "There's really nothing left for us to do," he said. "Anything else I can think of is either not practical or illegal. So unless you've got any ideas, we're stuck doing nothing."

Isaac opened his mouth to protest. Scott held up a hand to stop him. "I don't like it anymore than you do. But there's nothing we can do to make this situation better."

"That's not exactly true," Derek said quietly. Scott returned his focus to the alpha. "You have an idea?" Allison asked hopefully. Derek turned his light-eyed stare onto the huntress. "Me, Scott, and Isaac can't pick up the scent here, but who's to say that we can't pick it up further down the line?"

Scott blinked. "I hadn't thought of that," he said, mostly to himself. Derek raised an eyebrow at him. "Obviously. Let's get moving."

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"Sheriff?"

John looked up as he heard his name being called softly. Deputy Bennett Carnaghi stood in the doorway of John's office. John held up a finger, signaling Carnaghi to wait while John finished talking to a man on the phone.

"Yes, sir. And if they come back again, you give us a call. All right. Bye." John placed the receiver back into its cradle before giving his attention to the deputy. "What'd you get, Carnaghi?" John had placed Carnaghi in charge of looking through the school's footage, seeing as he knew the man was going to be thorough.

"I ran all the faces of the adults who went in and out of the school. A couple of them have a criminal backgrounds but nothing major. Petty theft and the like. Anyway, the only adults that went in and out of the building were the teachers, the janitor, you, and another man. He doesn't look familiar to me. Maybe you'd like to take a look at him?"

At John's nod, Bennett approached John's desk and handed the sheriff two sheets of paper. "The man's name is Cullen Cedars. It says he moved to Beacon Hills around this time last year," Carnaghi rattled off. "He brought his wife and son with him. Have you ever seen him before?"

John felt as though everything had come to a standstill. "Cullen Cedars," he whispered incredulously. Carnaghi leaned forward slightly. "What's that?" John inhaled deeply. "I knew someone with that name once," he said in a louder voice. Bennett raised an eyebrow, "Yeah? When?"

John blew out a breath. "From back in college. We used to be friends. He tried to murder me." He said the last part as more of an afterthought. Bennett whistled. "That's rough, Boss," he said with sympathy. John squinted up at the deputy. "It can't be a coincidence, can it? That he was at Stiles' school? Couldn't it have been some other Cullen Cedars?" John asked hopefully. Carnaghi shrugged and raised his palms to the sky. John sighed. "Wishful thinking, I know. Can you get me an address?"

Bennett stepped forward and pointed to a spot under the photograph of Cullen. "I already got you one."

John looked and, sure enough, there was an address listed in the third column under the photo. John laughed softly under his breath. "I hate to say it, but I think it might be time for me to get glasses."

Bennett's smile grew at John's comment. "Whatever you say, Sheriff. Do you want me to come with you to Cedars' place?"

John pushed his chair back and stood up. He winced as he felt and heard his back give off a series of pops and cracks. He decided to go ahead and finish the job as he tilted his head at a side angle to get his neck to pop. He straightened out as he felt his neck give a satisfying crack. "That would be great if you came along, Carnaghi." John gave the officer a smile before he collected his keys out of his coffee mug and lead the way out to his squad car.

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Allison had never felt so embarrassed to be seen with her friends before. They were walking in a single-file line down the sidewalk. Derek had taken the lead, Scott a few steps behind him, Isaac was practically walking on Scott's heels, and Allison was bringing up the rear. . . five feet behind everyone else. It wasn't necessarily her friends she was embarrassed by, it was what they were doing. They had agreed to try to pick up Stiles' scent further down the road. And so, they had unconsciously settled into the line they were in now and had set off. Every now and then, one of the wolves would turn their head toward the street and take a light sniff as if they might have caught something. Each time it had been a false alarm. Now, instead of turning their heads to the street and sniffing over their shoulders, they would tilt their heads up and sniff the air. And they weren't being very subtle about it. Well, Derek was. But he had more training and experience under his belt than Scott and Isaac did.

The boys' awkward sniffing of the air had drawn the attention of the occasional passerby. People had given them so many funny looks of disapproval and distrust that Allison had unconsciously shrank back from her friends. She wasn't in any way ashamed to be seen with them. It's just that she didn't want to be seen with them at that current moment.

They had been walking in silence for at least twenty minutes now. Allison quickened her steps so she could fall into step beside Isaac. "Have you guys got anything yet? Or is this a waste of time?" She asked. Isaac glanced down at her briefly. "I think this was a good idea. I occasionally get something here and there," he said in his soft voice. "What about you guys?" He directed toward Derek and Scott. "Are you guys getting what I'm getting?"

"If all you're getting is nothing, then yes, I am getting what you're getting. If what you're getting is still exhaust fumes, then yes, I am getting that also," Scott commented without turning around. Isaac smirked slightly. "I am getting exhaust fumes, but I'm pretty sure they're the same exhaust fumes from back down the road. I think we might be following the kidnapper's car!" Isaac said hopefully.

"Or we could be following the car of a crazy cat lady. We won't know for sure until the trail ends," Derek commented from the beginning of the line.

"Okay," Allison said calmly. She prepared herself for what could be another few hours of walking. She hoped following this trail would lead to Stiles. She couldn't imagine where he could be right now. Her thoughts were suddenly broken up by a high pitched trill coming from her bag. She swept her hair behind her ear as she looked down into her purse to locate her phone. Once she had found it, she pulled it out and checked the caller ID. "It's Lydia," she announced to the group. "Hey Lyds! Tell me what you've got."

 _"_ _I just got a call from the sheriff saying that he's got a potential witness. He said he'll keep us updated."_

Allison nodded. "Good to know. Anything else?"

 _"_ _I may have found a way to break the curse."_

"Really? That's great! What do we have to do?"

 _"_ _Well first, we need to find Stiles. How's that going by the way?"_

Allison hesitated before answering. "Uh, it's going. What were you saying about the curse?" She diverted the attention back to the curse breaker.

 _"_ _Right. I found this in an antiquated Latin compendium. Don't ask me where I got it. It took me a few hours to translate parts of it, but I think I found what we're looking for. It has one way to reverse the curse and, truth be told, I am kind of hoping that I can find another way than this."_

Allison's pace slowed as she absorbed Lydia's words. "What? Why? What's wrong with the way you found?"

There was a pause in which Allison could imagine that Lydia was probably biting her lip.

"Lydia, tell me now. What is it?" Allison head Lydia sigh.

 _"_ _The only way I've found involves putting Stiles into a coma which he might never wake up from. We could risk losing him. I don't like this, Allison. There's got to be another way! There has to be!"_

"Lydia, calm down. I don't like this as much as you do but what if it's the only way to get rid of this thing? What else do you have to do?" Allison heard Lydia sigh again.

 _"_ _There's an lengthy incantation here that we have to recite before Stiles goes into the coma. If we're going to do this we're going to need matches, lamb's blood, and the heart of a fetal pig."_

Allison cringed. "Heart of a fetal pig?"

 _"_ _I know. Like I said, this book is ancient. I've got to go. I'll keep you updated."_

"Same. I'll let you know if we come any closer to finding Stiles."

As Allison was putting her phone away, she heard Scott speak up. "I don't like the sound of that plan. It's too risky."

Allison looked up and saw that Scott was looking back at her as he walked. Allison nodded at him. "I don't like it either, but if we don't find anything else we'll have to try."

Scott frowned and opened his mouth to reply. Since he was still walking while looking backwards he didn't see that Derek had stopped at an intersection ahead of him. Allison reached out an arm to grab him and prevent the collision but she was too far away. Scott collided solidly with Derek's still form. While Allison knew that Derek had top reflexes, he didn't quite react quickly enough. Scott's 'rear-ender' pushed Derek off the lip of the curb and into the road. Derek jumped back onto the curb with frightening speed as a car whizzed right past his nose. Everyone stood in shocked silence for a moment. Derek slowly turned around to face the younger wolf. Scott, frozen with his mouth open, stared stupidly at the older wolf.

"Oh my god. Dude, I am so sorry. I didn't even –"

Derek silenced him with a finger. "Don't."

Scott nodded and closed his mouth. Derek lowered his hand. Suddenly, he turned to his right and started out into the clear intersection. "It's this way."

Scott, Allison, and Isaac all exchanged perplexed looks before making a silent unanimous decision to follow the brooding wolf across the street.

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Hope you guys enjoyed! Leave me comment and tell me what you thought! **_Let me know if you guys want to see anything specific in the upoming chapters! Ships (no slash please), plot twists, fluffy moments, etc_**. All the love and umbrellas!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOU COULD'VE BEEN ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD TONIGHT BUT YOU'RE HERE WITH IS IN BEACON HILLS. Y'all got lucky. I'm suddenly in a writing frenzy. Here's chapter 9 fam!

 **lenail125- I love bro moments too! I'll see what I can do... *smirks***

 **MariAJB- Why thank you, dahhling! I love writing pack scenes. Sometimes it gets a little hard because you have to include everyone. ;) But for you, I will continue to write them!**

 **Lovely Guest- I'm glad you laughed at that scene! I admit, I laughed a little while writing it. XD**

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

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"Tell me, boy. Are you attached to your toes?"

Stiles nodded mechanically as he watched Cullen fiddle with what looked like a meat tenderizer. While Stiles was quite attached to his toes, he couldn't muster the energy to be frightened of what was about to come. He was no stranger to being restless and going without sleep for long periods of time. But the continuos sessions of torture had left him drained beyond belief. Stiles' entire body felt like lead. He could still feel the pain spiking from his lesions and bruises, but he had almost pushed them into the back of his brain. They didn't matter to him right now. Even the threat of Cullen potentially breaking Stiles' toes, and probably his fingers too, was disregarded. All he wanted was to be left alone so he could rest. Apparently, there was no rest for the wicked. But Stiles hadn't done anything wrong had he. He almost wanted to laugh as the line _Where did I go wrong?_ from "How To Save a Life" played in his head, but he didn't have the energy.

"I should hope so. I doubt you'd be walking if you weren't attached to them," Cullen laughed. Stiles frowned. Was that a joke?

"Anyway," Cullen said, back in his serious tone. "I have a theory I would like to test on you."

Oh, this didn't sound good.

"I've been thinking about the way you've been responding to your lessons. You're very submissive. I don't if that is a result of fear or if you're simply trying to be brave."

Crap. Did he know?

"I assume it's most likely the latter, as you don't seem very frightened. However, I don't think you're stupid. So, here's what's going to happen. You are going to take this mallet and you are going to smash your own toes. I'm going to un-cuff you so you have free range of movement. After you've finished, you are to hand the mallet back to me and place your wrists back into the cuffs. Do you understand?"

Stiles body was suddenly alive with fear and adrenaline. _He knew._ This was not good. This was _really_ not good.

"Give me your hands," Cullen instructed as he knelt down to Stiles' level. Stiles obediently stuck his hands out as far as the chains would allow. Cullen quickly inserted the key into the lock and freed Stiles left wrist before moving on to the left wrist. Once Stiles was free, Cullen stood up and extended the mallet down to the teenager. "Take it," he said sharply. Stiles' hand shot out and hurriedly took the kitchen tool from the man. Stiles felt as though he were watching what was happening from afar. It was almost as if the curse had trapped away his conscience that was yelling at him to drop the mallet and avoid harming himself. He wanted to look away as he felt his arms gearing up for the strike. He mentally fought, tooth and nail, to regain control of his limbs.

His arms tensed in preparation for the blow he was about to deliver.

The fear was almost blinding as Stiles tried to stop his arms from bringing the mallet down on his toes. He had no control over what was happening.

He screamed internally as he felt his arms beginning the downward swing. But just before the tool hit his foot – _"Stop!"_  
The mallet hovered at a standstill an inch above his right foot. Air rushed into Stiles' lungs. Cullen whistled low and long.

"My God. You were actually going to do it, weren't you?" Cullen crouched down in front of the petrified teen. "What has your daddy been teaching you?" He asked in amazement. Stiles stared back with horrified eyes at the man. There was an almost giddy look in Cullen's eyes at his new discovery. It made Stiles want to throw up. If there had been anything in his stomach, he probably would have.

"I'll tell you what, how about we call good old Johnny Boy and have us a chat, shall we?"

Stiles swallowed heavily. This could be his chance to get a message out to his father about his kidnapper. "Give me that, boy," Cullen said as he snatched the mallet away from Stiles' lax hands. "Get up," he said to Stiles as he himself stood up. With difficulty, Stiles managed to get his feet under him and, using the wall for support, pushed himself all the way up. Once Cullen was assured that Stiles wasn't going to keel over suddenly –not that he would care if the brat took a fall – he moved to enter his passcode into the door panel. No sooner had he set his finger on the first number of the sequence when a ' _Bzz Bzz_ ' sounded and the door swung open. Luke stood in the doorway with a panicked look on his face. Cullen stepped away from the panel and gave his son a curious look.

"What?" He asked. Luke glanced over Cullen's shoulder at Stiles, who was still propped against the wall. Luke jerked a nod a him. "His father's here: the sheriff. He brought a deputy with him."

Stiles felt his heart begin to pound as relief washed over him. His father had found him. He was getting out of here. God bless John Stilinski. He always had the best timing.

Cullen looked over his shoulder at the young Stilinski.

"What does he want?" Cullen asked calmly.

"He said he wants to ask you some questions," Luke replied, trying to match his father's tone.

A sudden painful thought hit Stiles like a train: Did his father know he was here? The relief Stiles was feeling was ripped away and was replaced by a burning need to get to his dad. He needed to get out. He needed to get to his father _now_. He was so close and John probably didn't even know that Stiles was right under his nose. Stiles breathing rate increased as Cullen turned and walked back toward him.

"No, please. _Please_. You can't. You have to let me go. You _have_ to –" Stiles' pleas were cut short as Cullen backhanded him sharply across the face. "Did I give you permission to speak?" Cullen growled. Stiles shrank back against the wall as he frantically shook his head. Cullen pulled the key to the manacles out of his pocket and pointed with his free hand to the floor, indicating for Stiles to sit. Stiles forced himself to sit back down in his previous spot. The elder Cedars knelt down and locked both manacles onto Stiles' wrists. Before he stood up, he ruffled Stiles hair as he seemed to enjoy doing,

"Now you be good, Boy. Don't make any noise," Cullen said in the voice one reserves for speaking to young children and pets. Stiles stared at the ground as he heard Cullen and Luke leaving the room. The door sealed with a shrill ' _beep_ ' and only then did Stiles allow the tears burning behind his eyes to fall.

What had he done to deserve this?

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Luke Cedars had lead the officers into what appeared to be the kitchen and had left after politely telling them to wait there while he went to find his father. John hooked his thumbs into jacket pockets as he waited for Mr. Cedars to appear. He glanced over at Bennett and saw that the man was mimicking John's stance. John smiled softly before returning his gaze to where the younger Cedars had disappeared. It was a solid five minutes or so before John heard footsteps coming down the hall. The man John assumed was Cullen Cedars rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen. He smiled at the officers who smiled back in return.

"Cullen Cedars?" John asked. Cullen nodded and extended a hand. "Yes, sir. What can I do for you gents?" He asked kindly as he and John shook hands.

"Mr. Cedars, I'm Sheriff Stilinski with the Beacon County Sheriff's Department. This is Deputy Carnaghi." John paused as Bennett and Cullen exchanged 'how do you do's' and handshakes. "We are here investigating a missing person," John continued. "We need to ask you a few questions if you have the time."

Cullen nodded as he gestured to the chairs that surrounded the kitchen table. "Please, take a seat," he said as he himself pulled out a chair and sat down. John and Carnaghi followed suit and the took seats across from Cullen.

Once they were all situated, John laid the manilla file in his hand down on the table. "We are looking for a young man named Stiles Stilinski. He attends Beacon Hills High School. I believe your son goes there?" John asked. Cullen nodded distractedly as he stared intently at the photo the sheriff had laid out of the missing teen. "Have you seen him before?" John asked hopefully. Cullen nodded again and looked up at the sheriff. "His face looks vaguely familiar to me but I don't know why," he said softly. John handed the photo of Stiles to the man. "On Monday afternoon, your son got into a fight with him." John could almost see the switch being flipped in Cullen's brain. "Ah, so that's why I know his face. He's your son, correct?"

John nodded curtly before turning back to the subject. "We checked the security camera feed that watches the coming and going traffic at the main entrance to the school. We ran the faces of every adult who came and left the building that day. I understand you went to the school to pick your son up and take him home after the fight, yes?" At Cullen's positive response, John continued. "Could you tell us what you did after that up until now?"

"Of course. I brought Lucas home around 1:30 on Monday. After making sure he was all right, I had to get back to work. I work as an accountant uptown," Cullen paused to take a breath. Bennett took the opportunity to quickly finish jotting down Cullen's words in his case notebook.

"I got back from work around six and decided to order dinner in. We had chinese. There's most likely still some in the fridge if you want evidence," Cullen offered. John shook his head and gestured for Cullen to continue. "After dinner, I worked on some of the things I had brought home from work and Lucas went to work on homework. Tuesday morning, Lucas and I had breakfast together before we went our separate ways. I went to work and my son went to school."

"Did you drive Lucas to school that day?" Bennett interrupted. Cullen's gaze shifted to the deputy. "No, I did not. Lucas drove himself," he replied before re-focusing his stare on the sheriff. "Again, I came back from work at six. Luke had made dinner and we ate together. I then, again, worked on extra office work before going to bed. Luke stayed home from school today as he wasn't feeling well this morning. Wednesdays are my day off from work." Cullen sounded almost bored as he described the past few days to the officers. "Does that cover it?" He asked simply.

"That was just what we were looking for," John said kindly. "Do you have a phone number for your company that we could call?"

Cullen nodded. "Of course. May I borrow your pen?" He asked Bennett. Carnaghi tore off a blank piece of paper and passed both it and the pen to Cullen. Mr. Cedars quickly jotted down a telephone number before passing it back with the pen to the deputy. Carnaghi collected the paper and pen and pushed back his chair. John and he stood in unison. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Cedars," John said politely. He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of his cards. "If you think you see Stiles anywhere, don't hesitate to give us a call."

Cullen accepted the card wordlessly with a smile and a nod. John extended his hand for one last shake as he said, "We'll be in touch."

Cullen shook hands with John and then with Carnaghi before escorting the men to the front door. Once the two officers were in the car, Bennett turned to John and asked "Is that the same guy you knew?"

"Yep," John replied without hesitation as he pulled the car away from the curb. Bennett nodded. "Do you think he remembered you?"

Again, John replied quickly. "Yep." Bennett 'hmm'-ed softly at John's answer. "Did Cedars seem a little rehearsed to you, or was that just –"

"Yep," John interrupted. Bennett frowned at the sheriff.

"'Yep' what, Boss? 'Yep' he was rehearsed or 'yep' it was just me that thought so?"

"'Yep' he sounded rehearsed. He's hiding something and I'm going to find out what."

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John dropped Bennett back off at the station before heading back to his house. On the ride to the station, John had received a call from Scott saying that they needed to talk to him. John told Scott to meet him at his house.

As John approached his house, he saw not only Scott's dirt bike parked on the street but also Derek Hale's black Camaro and Lydia's blue Prius. John parked his squad car in the driveway and cut the engine. He exited the car and walked up to the front door. Upon entering, he at once saw Scott, Allison, Derek, Isaac, and Lydia seated either on the couch or on the floor. John closed the door behind him before addressing the group.

"All right. How'd it go?" He asked. Scott had filled him in on what they had been doing earlier over the phone.

"We didn't get anything," Isaac said. John thought he detected a hint of regret in the teen's voice. "We kind of just ended up going in circles," Allison elaborated. John sighed and nodded.

"All right. Well, what did you want to talk about?" John hoped for good news. Heaven knew he could use it right then.

"We may have found a way to break the curse," Lydia piped. John blinked owlishly at her. "Already? Wow, you guys work quick. How's it done?" He asked eagerly. At the nervous glances the group exchanged, John wasn't sure he really wanted to know. "It's not anything illegal is it?" He asked cautiously. His mind relaxed slightly at the chorus of noes he received.

"The process involves putting Stiles in a coma or an incredibly deep sleep. We'll need matches, lamb's blood, and a fetal pig," Lydia explained. John opened his mouth to question the strange assortment of things that they needed but Lydia stopped him. "I'll explain it in more detail later. Right now, I'm more curious about this witness you interviewed. Did they give you anything useful?"

John pursed his lips. He wasn't supposed to tell them anything about the interview, but at this point he didn't really care. "He was definitely hiding something. We asked him about what he had been doing with his time the past couple of days. His answer sounded a little rehearsed to Deputy Carnaghi and me. I have Carnaghi calling the witness's work to check his story. But any ideas for Stiles' kidnapper are up in the air right now." John waved his hand in the air for emphasis. "We don't think it was any one at the school that day, but that's not set in stone. We have a few.. places that we... are.. going to..."

While John was in the middle of sentence, Scott had stood up from his seat on the floor and approached the sheriff with a confused look on his face. He now stood a foot away from the older man. John raised an eyebrow at the teen. "What are you doing, Scott?"

Instead of answering his question, Scott said, "Wave your hand again."

John frowned but did as he was asked. As he waved his hand, he saw Scott inhale deeply. Then suddenly, Scott caught John's wrist in his hand and he lightly sniffed John's fingers. Now John was open to Scott being a werewolf, but sniffing people's fingers just crossed the line. John tugged his wrist away and stared in bewilderment at the teenager. "Just what _the hell_ do you think you're doing?" He asked in an elevated tone. Scott pointed at the hand he had just been holding.

"Who was the last person you touched?" He asked urgently. John's eyebrows shot up.

"You, Scott," he supplied. "What the hell is this –"

Scott shook his head vehemently. "No no no no no. Before me. Who was the _last person_ you touched?"

John was silent for a moment as he thought about the question. Then it came back to him. "The witness, Cullen Cedars. I shook his hand. Why? Can you still smell him? If it smells bad I can wash my–"

" _No_ , don't do that!" Scott almost shouted. John blinked at the sudden change in volume.

"Why?" He asked slowly. Scott took in a deep breath.

"It's him. He has Stiles."

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Hope you guys enjoyed! Leave me comment and tell me what you thought! **_Let me know if you guys want to see anything specific in the upoming chapters! Ships (no slash please), plot twists, fluffy moments, etc_**. All the love and puppies!


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Sooooo this one happens to be about 2k words longer than the other chapters... I don't know what happened. HELP ME MAKE A DECISION! I don't know whether to continue writing in this story or to make a sequel. I'm leaning more towards the sequel... Let me know your opinions! **To the beauties who reviewed** : you've won a one man performance (by me) of Hamilton. Congratulations!

How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore...

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

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The room was blanketed in a shocked silence. Allison was the first to break it.

"How do you know that man has him?" She asked quietly. Scott turned to face the stunned huntress on the couch.

"The sheriff said he shook hands with – Cullen was it?" Scott directed the last part at John who nodded in reply. "He shook hands with Cullen," Scott continued. "Mr. Stilinski's hand smells like the hair gel Stiles uses. It's faint, but it's there. My guess is Cullen touched Stiles' hair some point. When he shook hands with the sheriff, he must have transferred some of the scent," Scott said excitedly.

"Now, hold on a second," John interjected. "We can't just go off the scent of the hair gel Stiles used! You're going to have to give me more evidence. Now, I want to find Stiles more than anyone, but I can't go barging into Cedars' house and tell him that we're going to search the premises because of hair gel."

"He's right, Scott," Derek inputted from across the room. All eyes turned to him. "We need more to back up your theory."

Scott took a deep breath and tried to quell his need to get on his bike and go get Stiles right that second. Scott knew Cullen had Stiles. He had to have him.

"Okay, then, let's start with what we know. Allison, do you remember what time you took Stiles home?" Scott queried. Allison pursed her lips as she thought. "I think it was around 7:20 when I dropped him off," she said after a moment. Scott nodded. "Okay, so you dropped him off at 7:20. Sheriff, you said he was supposed to bring you dinner?"

John nodded his head. "Yes. He would've gone to that restaurant we investigated. It shouldn't have taken more than ten minutes to get food. That puts us at 7:30. The walk to the station from the restaurant is about 15-20 minutes. He would've gotten to the station by 7:50 at the latest."

"That means that in those 15 to 20 minutes Stiles was kidnapped," Derek remarked. "He had to have been taken from that stretch of road. Are there any cameras that watch that area?" He directed at John. John shook his head. "There aren't any cameras there; I checked."

Derek nodded and furrowed his brow as he tried to think of another way someone might have seen Stiles.

"Are there any banks or ATMs on that street?" Isaac spoke up. "They usually have security cameras watching them." Again, John shook his head.

"No, there aren't any banks on that street. It's all lined by houses and villas," John stated.

"So, just to summarize: I dropped Stiles off at 7:20, he gets food by 7:30, and between 7:30 and 7:50 he gets kidnapped. No one at the restaurant knows which way he went and there are no cameras lining his speculated path," Allison listed quickly. "Is all of that right?" At everyone's nods, she sighed. "This doesn't give us any thing more than we already had! We don't even know if Stiles was kidnapped! He could've just wandered off somewhere and not have known how to get back."

John scrubbed at his forehead. "No no. Stiles didn't have a reason to just "wander off". He's traveled that route a million times before. There's no way he got lost. Sure, he gets distracted sometimes but once he tells someone he's going to be somewhere, he'll be there. He told me he was coming and he never arrived. That tells me that some sick man has my son!" John's voice had risen to a shout. "Now I intend to –"

They never found out what John was intending to do as his phone rang shrilly in his pocket. John breathed deeply to calm himself as he pulled out his cell and checked the caller ID. He frowned upon seeing that the number was blocked. He pressed the answer key and raised the phone to his ear. "Sheriff Stilisnki," he answered firmly. His frown deepened at the response he was given: laughter. The person on the other end was laughing. John pulled the phone away from his ear and put it in speaker mode so the room's other occupants could hear. Everyone unconsciously leaned in closer to hear to the sounds coming through the phone.

"Who is this?" John asked curiously. The laughter sounded as if it was coming from a man. But it was through a phone so he couldn't really tell. The laughter slowly wound down and a man began to speak.

 _"_ _Oh, Johnny-Boy. You haven't changed a bit."_

John's frowned disappeared and was replaced by a look of shock. "Cullen?" He asked disbelievingly. The reaction among the pack was similar. Their faces all portrayed confusion and shock.

 _"_ _Oui, John, c'est moi. You are still as unobservant as you were in college. You walk through life just as oblivious as ever."_

A stone of horror sank to the bottom of John's stomach. It looked like Scott was right after all. "You have him. You have my son."

 _"_ _He was right under your nose and you left without him. You can only imagine how he felt knowing you were so close and then to have that hope ripped away. You should've seen his face: it was quite comical."_

An instant fire of anger was lit in John's veins. "You sick –"

 _"_ _Ah ah ah, John. Little ears, little ears."_

Stiles was there. "Stiles, can you hear me?" John all but shouted into the phone. "We're coming to get you. Do you hear me? I'm coming for you, kid."

Cullen laughed his deep laugh. _"Very cute, John. But if you want your child back alive, you're going to do what I tell you to."_

"Fine," John answered immediately. "Whatever you want. But you leave him alone, you hear me? Don't you lay another finger on him!"

 _"_ _Oh, don't worry. I swear I won't touch him. Now, what I want from you is Claudia's wedding ring."_

John's breathing stuttered. "Why do you want her ring?"

 _"_ _I am going to burn the last remains of a marriage that was never supposed to happen. Well, aside from burning your son."_

John's heart rate kicked up another notch. Claudia's wedding band was all he had left of hers. She had been buried with her engagement ring. If John gave over the band, his ties to her would be almost completely gone. But this was his son's life he was risking and that was more important. "I'll give you the ring. Where should I bring it to you?"

 _"_ _No, Dad! Don't give it to him!"_ _Stiles_. John's heart leapt. Just hearing his son's voice relieved a fraction of the worry weighing on John's shoulders. The worry was suddenly replaced with a burst of anger as what sounded like flesh hitting flesh was heard through the phone. John's jaw clenched in fury as he heard Stiles yelp at the contact.

 _"_ _Did I give you permission to speak, boy?"_ Cullen's voice boomed. There was silence for a moment before Cullen spoke again, _"I didn't think so. I must say, John, you do know how to raise a child. I have to give credit where credit is due. Your boy is so submissive, so obedient. He does whatever I tell him; it's beautiful. You must tell me how you did it!"_

John forcefully unclenched his jaw. "You swore you wouldn't touch him," he accused.

" _I know. I never swore I wouldn't hit him though,"_ came Cullen's infuriating response. Cullen always was a childish man. It looked as if the years hadn't changed him.

"I swear to God, Cullen, if you –"

 _"_ _We're getting off subject,"_ Cullen interrupted. John took a deep steadying breath. "Where?" He asked in reference to giving Cullen the ring.

 _"_ _Bring it to Beacon Hills High School in about, oh, half an hour. You give me the ring and you'll get your son back."_

"I'll be there. And Cullen?"

 _"_ _Yes, Jonathan?"_

"Hands off my son." And with that John ended the call. He looked up and was met with the intense stares from the pack. John blinked.

"What are you still standing here for? Let's move!" John's bark seemed to light a fire under everyone's butts and suddenly there was flurry of movement. While the pack headed for the front door, John headed up the stairs to go retrieve Claudia's ring. ' _It's to save Stiles,'_ he reminded himself. _'You're not letting go of Claudia, just her ring.'_

John entered his bedroom and made a beeline for his bedside table. He opened its single drawer and lifted the false bottom. John pulled out a small black jewelry box. He opened the lid and gazed at the simple gold band inside. John let out a heavy sigh. He closed the box and held it to his heart. He closed his eyes and mentally prepared himself for what was about to happen. "I'll get him back, Claudia. I promise," he whispered softly to the little box. Abruptly, John opened his eyes and he left the room with the box clutched tightly in his hand. He took the stairs two at a time and half-jogged to the front door. Outside, he saw that Scott, Isaac, and Allison were riding with Derek. That left Lydia. Upon inspection, John found that she had deposited herself into the passenger seat of his squad car. John nodded and pulled his keys out of his pocket. He opened the driver side door and slid into his seat. In quick succession, he closed his door and simultaneously strapped himself in while inserting and turning the keys in the ignition. He quickly checked to make sure that Lydia was restrained before he shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. As soon as he was clear, he shifted the car into drive and sped off towards the school with Derek right behind him.

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"Here's your mobile, Boy. Take it. Now, what you are going to do is as soon as you see your father pull into the lot you are to call him. You are to ask him if he has the ring. If he says yes, which he will even if he doesn't have it, you tell him to come up to the roof. You tell him to come up alone or you'll jump. Don't say anything unless I tell you to. Have you got all that?"

Stiles nodded slowly at Cullen's question. Cullen and his Dutch henchman had brought Stiles to the school right after John and the deputy had left. Stiles didn't know where he got it, but Cullen had a key that unlocked the school's front doors. Once they were inside, Cullen had immediately steered them toward the roof. It had been a solid forty-five minutes before Cullen had made his call to the sheriff. And now, here they were waiting for John.

"Take this," Cullen instructed gruffly. Stiles looked down at the object being handed to him. It was a gun. Stiles didn't want to even put a finger on the weapon, but he had no choice. He stretched out his hand and took the gun from Cullen. "You do only what I tell you to do with that. You understand me?" Cullen asserted. Stiles nodded his understanding and held the gun down at his side. Cullen nodded back. "Good. If anyone comes up here with your father, shoot them."

Stiles felt his blood run cold. If someone else did come up, Stiles wouldn't be able to stop himself from taking aim and putting a bullet in them.

"Go stand and look for you daddy. He should be here soon," Cullen laughed softly. Stiles did as he was bid and walked to the edge of the roof and watched the road for his dad's squad car. After ten anxiety filled minutes, Stiles saw a police car coming up the road with a black Camaro hot on its trail. Stiles felt his heart beginning to race. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his newly returned cellphone. He hit speed dial as the cars pulled into the lot. The phone rang twice before it was answered.

 _"_ _Stiles, is that you? Are you okay?"_

"Do you have the ring?" Stiles asked him in a monotone voice.

 _"_ _. . . Yeah, Kiddo. I have it. Where are you?"_ Stiles was warmed by the concern in his dad's voice. Stiles hadn't realized how much he had missed hearing his father's voice. He wanted to tell him that he missed him. He wanted to tell his dad that he was fine. He wanted to tell him not to worry. But all he could say was, "Come up to the roof. Come alone. If you don't come alone, I'll jump."

Stiles watched as John exited the car and instantly looked up to the roof. Stiles watched as he turned and said something to someone else in the car, who turned out to be Lydia.

 _"_ _Don't move, okay? I'm coming up. It's going to be okay,"_ John assured him. The assurance was unnecessary though. Stiles knew everything was going to be fine the second he saw his dad's car coming down the road.

Stiles ended the call but remained standing by the edge, looking down. He watched his dad until John disappeared into the building. He switched his focus as he watched Derek, Isaac, Allison, and Scott all get out of Derek's car. Lydia emerged from the squad car and went to stand next to her friends. Stiles watched as Derek and Scott started to head into the school before Lydia stopped them. She quietly explained the conversation that had gone on between Stiles and his dad. Stiles assumed she had finished because everyone hinged their heads back to look up at Stiles' unmoving form on the lip of the roof. Stiles watched with some amusement as the pack gathered closer to each other and bent their heads together.

After a few minutes, the group broke apart. Scott, Isaac, and Allison dashed into the school while Derek and Lydia stayed put. Lydia pulled her phone out of her purse and started making a call. Derek never took his eyes off of Stiles. Stiles guessed that Derek was there to try and save Stiles if he jumped. Stiles wasn't all too sure how well that was going to work.

"How nice of you to join us, John," Cullen crowed suddenly. Stiles longed to turn around and see his father face to face but John's unknowing command of ' _don't move_ ' was still in effect.

"Turn around and say hello to your father, Boy," Cullen commanded in the peppy tone he had adopted. Carefully, Stiles turned his body around and stepped off the lip of the roof. "Hey, Dad," he said quietly. John smiled at him. "Hey, Kiddo."

John had to fight not to shove Cullen off the roof as he saw what was around Stiles' neck. It was a shock collar, similar to the kind used on dogs. John bottled his anger and squared his shoulders.

"I have the ring," he told Cullen. "Now get that thing off my son," he spat. Cullen took a step closer to Stiles. "Let me see it," he said calmly. John kept his eyes on Cullen as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small black box.

"Fetch, Boy," Cullen said lowly. John watched as Stiles started moving toward him at a steady pace. John looked Stiles over as he approached. He was clad in his own jeans but he was wearing a t-shirt that didn't look familiar to John. His shoes were missing and his hair was a mess, but overall he looked fine. Other than the split lip he was sporting, Stiles didn't look to be injured at all.

Stiles was now close enough that John could reach out and pull him into a hug. But now was not the time. Not while there was a shock collar around Stiles neck and especially not while he was holding a gun. Stiles held out his hand for the box John was holding tightly.

John began to hand it over when suddenly Stiles brought the gun up and fired over John's left shoulder.

John spun around as he heard a familiar sounding yelp. Kneeling beside the rooftop's door was Scott. He was clutching at his left bicep with his free hand. John watched as burgundy liquid began to seep through the wolf's fingers. Scott looked up at John with pained filled eyes. Upon seeing the look of concern on John's face, Scott shook his head to assure the sheriff that he was fine. John nodded and turned back to his son who still had the gun aimed at Scott. John saw the look of utter horror and fear on Stiles' face. Stiles breathing began to increase. John knew what was going to happen if he didn't step in intervene immediately. "Hey hey hey. It's okay, Stiles. You didn't have control; it's not your fault!" John hurried to reassure Stiles. His son's horrified gaze shifted to meet John's.

"Ooh, tsk tsk," said Cullen. "I told you not to bring anyone up here. And now you've gotten someone hurt."

John stepped closer to Stiles and reached out to take the gun from his son's grasp. He was still a foot away when suddenly Stiles flinched backwards as his body was flooded with electricity.

"Stop! _Stop!_ " John yelled at Cullen. "You're hurting him!"  
Cullen laughed loudly. "That is kind of the point, Jonathan. You don't touch him until I have the ring. Do you understand?"

" _Yes!_ " John answered hurriedly. "Now stop it!"

Stiles gasped as the electricity was suddenly removed. Still gasping slightly, Stiles stepped toward his dad again and reached out for the black box. John placed the box into Stiles' hand and watched as his son turned and walked back to Cullen. But before Stiles was even close to the man, there was a shout of " _Now!_ " and everything turned into chaos. There was a ' _bang_ ' as the roof's door was thrown open forcefully and suddenly a tall shape that was moving fast shot past the stunned sheriff. Isaac? Then a second shape that was slightly shorter raced past John. That had to have been Scott. And then a third more petite figure rushed past. Allison. John could do nothing but watch as Allison headed for the man standing off to the left of Cullen and Scott headed for Cullen himself. Isaac looked to be heading for Stiles. Cullen registered what was happening a lot quicker than John did.

Cullen quickly stepped forward and grabbed Stiles by the arm and tried to pull the teen close to himself but he wasn't quick enough. Isaac, without stopping, wrapped an arm around Stiles middle and wrenched him away from Cullen. Pulling Stiles along with him, Isaac continued his path to the edge of the roof. And suddenly, John knew what was happening.

"Isaac, no! Don't –" But it was too late. Using his forward momentum, Isaac heaved Stiles over the lip of the roof and threw him out into the air. Isaac only just managed to stop himself from going over. John pumped his legs as fast as they would go and made it to the edge just in time to see something miraculous.

As soon as Derek had heard Scott's shout of " _Now!_ " he had put himself in position so he was parallel with the school. Within moments, Derek saw Isaac's lean form approaching the lip of the roof with an arm around Stiles. Derek lowered himself into a crouch and prepared to run. He watched as Stiles was airborne and began his descent toward the ground. "Wait for it," he muttered to himself. Then, like a bullet from a gun, Derek suddenly shot forward and leaped slightly upward and managed to wrap his arms around Stiles mid air. Twisting his body, Derek managed to roll the two of them until they were twisting like a football in the air. Derek huffed out a breath as he connected with the ground first. He loosened his grip on Stiles as their momentum carried them at least twelve feet across the grass. Finally, they rolled to a stop and both lay panting side by side. Derek was the first to break the silence. "You owe me," he stated, pointing an accusing finger at the winded teen. Stiles nodded his acquiescence. Derek turned his attention back to the roof and gave the waiting figures of John and Isaac a thumbs up. Isaac returned the thumbs up and the two men retreated from the edge.

John turned away from the ledge and saw that Allison and Scott had rendered Cullen and his accomplice unconscious while he and Isaac had been watching the action below. John nodded at the two of them. "Nice work. But didn't I tell you all to remain in parking lot?" John queried fiercely. The three teens had the grace to look ashamed. It was Scott who responded. "Yeah, you did. But we couldn't just sit by and watch it all happen and possibly let this guy get away." Scott gestured to the unconscious Cullen at his feet. John sighed and scrubbed at his forehead. "I know," he said softly. "Thank you," he said seriously. Allison smiled at him. "You should go check on Stiles," she suggested. "Lydia called for an ambulance in case we needed it. I'm guessing some of your officers will be coming too. We'll stay up here until they come."

"You're sure you guys are okay?" John asked. They all nodded and practically shooed him off the roof. John was out of the school and into the parking lot in no time. He saw that Derek and Stiles were back on their feet and were walking toward him. Lydia had picked up the gun that Stiles must've dropped during his fall and was currently in the process of unloading it. John met Stiles and Derek halfway. Derek made the decision to step away as he knew that the Stilinskis would need a moment. He went to wait for the ambulance he heard coming.

John stepped forward and pulled his son into a tight embrace. He smiled as he felt the hug being reciprocated. "Hey, Dad," Stiles repeated his words from earlier. John closed his eyes and squeezed Stiles tighter. "Hey, Bud."

It felt so good to have his son back in his arms that John didn't realize that he was slowly still tightening his grip. He didn't notice until Stiles made an odd nose somewhere between a squeak and a grunt. "That kinda hurts, Dad," Stiles vocalized hoarsely. Immediately, John let go of his son. "Sorry," he apologized. "It's just good to have you back." Stiles smiled at him as he rubbed gently at his ribs. John frowned as he observed the action. "Are you all right? Did someone touch you?" He asked as he reached out his hands to inspect his son for damage. Instantly, Stiles batted his hands away. "I'm fine, Dad. No one touched me. I think Derek's tackle might have bruised me a little though," he admitted. John nodded and accepted his son's answer for the lie it was. He would have the EMTs look him over once they arrived.

"Hey, Dad, could you please stop making that face?" Stiles burst out. John blinked in surprise at him. "What face? I'm not making a face." Stiles sighed. "Yes, you are. It's the 'I-should've-protected-you-better-what-kind-of-father-am-I' face. Every time I get hurt, you make that face. This wasn't your fault, Dad. There wasn't anything you could've done to prevent it. So stop beating yourself up, okay?"

John felt the love in his heart for his son swell. "What did I do to deserve you, Kiddo?" he asked quietly as he pulled Stiles in for another hug.

"Boss!"

John pulled away from the hug as he heard the familiar voice of Bennett Carnaghi. John hadn't heard the sirens or noticed any of the vehicles pulling into the lot. The sheriff watched as Carnaghi, followed by a few other officers, jogged up to him. "They're on the roof," John informed them. All the officers except Bennett ran into the school. "You all right?" He asked with genuine concern. John nodded. "Yeah, we're fine. Go help the others."

Bennett nodded and took off into the school. Wrapping an arm around Stiles' shoulder, John began steer them toward the paramedics. They had only gone a few steps when their progress came to sudden halt. John looked over at his son and found that Stiles had dug his heels into the ground. John internally sighed. Things had been going so well...

"Stiles, please, you need to be checked over by the paramedics. It's not going to take long," John reasoned. Stiles vehemently shook his head. "No. Can we just go home please? I'm fine! I don't need anybody else touching me for another week. I –"

 _Wait, what?_ "I thought you said no one touched you," John stated in a low voice. He watched as a spark of fear ignited behind Stiles' eyes. "Stiles–" John started. Stiles twisted his body out from under his dad's arm and backed away a few steps. "That's not what I meant!" He protested. "I just – I-I just meant – N-No one –"

John held out placating hands. "Breathe, Stiles. It's okay. Calm down; take deep breaths."

Normally when John had to talk down a panic attack, Stiles wasn't so quick to respond. But as soon as the words were out of John's mouth, Stiles' breathing began to slow down. _Ah_. John had forgotten about the curse. "You okay now?" He asked once Stiles' breathing had returned to normal. Stiles nodded, but his facial expression said otherwise. "I just want to go home," he said softly. Inside, John knew that this was a battle he was going to have to surrender in. "Okay," John folded. "We can go home." John watched the tension drain from Stiles' shoulders.

"Do you want to go wait in the car? I'm going to make sure everything gets taken care of," John said. Stiles gave a single nod before turning and walking toward John's car. John sighed as he watched his son retreat. Stiles had only been with that man for 24 hours but he seemed changed in a way. John couldn't place exactly how, but he intended to fix it. John searched the parking lot until his eyes settled on the person he was looking for.

"Lydia!" He called to the strawberry-blonde who was talking to Derek over by the ambulance. Her head turned to look over her shoulder as she heard her name being called. John waved her over once he had her attention. Lydia turned and said something to Derek before walking over to the sheriff. John looked down at Lydia's questioning expression. "Could you do me a favor?" He asked quietly. Lydia arched an eyebrow and nodded. "What do you need?" She replied in the same soft tone. John nodded his head in the direction Stiles had gone. "Would you go keep an eye on him for me? I would prefer him not to be alone at this current moment."

Lydia nodded fervently. "Absolutely, Sheriff," she said before quick stepping her way back to the ambulance. John watched as she told something to one of the paramedics who nodded and disappeared into the back of the ambulance. A moment later, he returned with a blanket and a water bottle. Lydia gave the man a smile before going to find Stiles. John smiled to himself; God, he loved that girl.

Stiles sat sideways in the back of his dad's squad car with the door open and his feet on the ground. He rested his elbows on his knees and let his head hang forward. Closing his eyes, he let out a long sigh. His head snapped up suddenly when he heard a light tapping on the roof of the car. Looking up, he saw that Lydia had approached at some point. She smiled and bent down so she could look him in the face. "You look terrible," she said bluntly. Stiles' smirked lightly as he huffed out a breath. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome," Lydia replied as she offered him the bottle of water she was holding. Stiles mumbled his thanks as he accepted the bottled liquid. He had unscrewed the cap and raised the bottle to his lips when Lydia said, "Drink it slowly, please."

Stiles had had every intention to drain that bottle within seconds, but now, with Lydia's command, he was forced to take it sip by sip. It was probably a good thing that Lydia had told him to, because as the first sip of water hit his stomach, he immediately felt as though he was going to throw up. Stiles quickly screwed the lid back on and set the water on the floor.

Lydia frowned in disapproval at how little he had drunk but she didn't say anything about it. Instead, she brandished the blanket she was carrying. "Do you want the blanket?" She asked kindly. Stiles shook his head to indicate that no, he did not want the blanket. Lydia arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him. "You want the blanket," she said firmly. Stiles shook his head again. "I don't want the blanket, Lydia," he informed her just as firmly. Lydia ignored him as she began to unfold the blanket. "Yes, you do. You want the blanket."

Stiles huffed slightly. "Lydia, I _really_ don't want the blanket."

Again, Lydia ignored his protest. "Yes, you do," she said simply. She then proceeded to lean into the car and wrap the blanket around Stiles' back and up and over his shoulders. Then, for good measure, she pulled the cloth up and over his head so that all you could see of his face was from his nose down. "Comfy?" She asked brightly. Stiles was still for a moment. Then he nodded which made the loose cloth hanging over his eyes flap. Lydia couldn't help but giggle. Reaching out, she flipped the soft material up so she could see Stiles' eyes. She giggled again as he blinked owlishly up at her. Lydia walked around the back of the car and opened the backseat door on the side and slid into the empty seat.

Stiles lifted up his legs and turned his body so he was completely in the car. He pulled the blanket down off his head. He was glad Lydia had ignored him and given him the blanket. Stiles hadn't realized how cold he was. The air outside had cooled down as the sun had set but it was by no means cold out. Stiles vaguely wondered if he was experiencing shock.

"Are you okay?"

Stiles refocused his thoughts as Lydia spoke. He turned and looked into her hazel eyes. There was so much raw concern in them that he had to look away. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm..."

Stiles wasn't exactly sure what he was. He knew he wasn't okay. And he knew he couldn't lie to Lydia and say he was. In only 24 hours, Cullen had managed to ravage Stiles' mind in a way that Stiles knew was going to take a while to recover from. He looked out the window behind Lydia's shoulder and watched as Cullen and Phillip, both handcuffed, were escorted out of the school and into the back of a police car.

Stiles looked back at Lydia. "I'm going to be okay."

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Thanks for reading! Drop me a review! I'll either see you in the next chapter or in the sequel! All the love and pixie dust!


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